A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court
by Sun Queen
Summary: Welcome to Hogwarts. Please check your bow, your arrows and your knives at the gate, and try to refrain from drastically screwing up the universe. Enjoy your stay...lookie! New chapter!
1. Prologue

A Note From Sun Queen: Hey people! This is just a little break I'm taking from my other fic, Valkyries, (LOTR, R&R please!). It's a little intro, putting everyone's favourite pounceable elf into the world of Harry Potter. I'll continue it if I get reviews, so clicky clicky, tell me what you think!

Some characters are a little OCC, but that's the beauty of it, since I'm the Almighty Author-Chick and can make them do whatever I want. Don't worry, I'm not going to totally screw them up.

Lastly, this Legolas-Greenleaf-in-the-Harry-Potter-Universe-Fic was inspired by the brilliant story by Seroci, "Far Deeper Than Skin", also on this board. Go read it, I highly recommend it. All hail Seroci, whose fic I check for updates every day *hint, hint* :)

Disclaimer: JRR owns Legolas, god bless his elfy little heart, and JK owns everybody else.

I thrive on reviews, so let me know what you think. Flames will be used to light a signal fire, so you can tell me to my face why you think my writing sucks. Enjoy!

  
  


Prologue

  
  
  


The lifetime of an immortal.

  
  
  


Eternal life is something truly amazing. The wonders that you see, the ecstasy that you feel, the number of times your heart shatters...I have experienced the most mind-blowing adventures, the most mindless terror, the purest love, the deepest anguish when you can feel your heart spiderwebbing with cracks.

  
  
  


These Elven eyes have beheld war, destruction, blood, battle, death and tears. Yet they've also seen love, life, laughter, and true miracles. They've also beheld things that go even beyond the comprehension of an immortal.

  
  
  


Such as this day.

  
  
  


My name is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, and I am deep in shit.

  
  
  



	2. When the Trees Don't Know Your Name

Chapter One: When the Trees Don't Know Your Name

  
  


The forest where I found myself was definitely *not* Mirkwood, nor was it Lothlorien, Fangorn, or any other woods I had ever visited. Here, the trees rose high and dark, shadowing the heavy, dusky carpet of last year's leaves. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight occasionally pierced the canopy, flooding some hollows with golden light. I stepped lightly into one of these sun shafts, making not a sound and leaving no traces of my boot prints in the spongy soil. I turned, running my hands over the trunk of the massive tree, through the fallen leaves, searching my mind for answers. The air smelled of mould, of sap fresh as blood, the ochre-damp smell of bark.... 

  
  


I frowned, assessing my situation. Panic was useless, and quite premature. I knew I was no longer in Mirkwood, where I had been when last the sun had set. But exactly *where* was I? Such was the puzzle. The forest felt odd; it was too quiet, lacking birds, insects, and the small animals that give character to a woods. There was also a distinct menace, something rooted deep down, where I couldn't decipher it; it made the hair on my neck stand on end, and made me keep one hand on my bow. I was well equipped, thank the Valar, with the bow I had received from the Lady Galadriel, my embroidered leather quiver, and my beautiful, prized Elven blades. I smiled. These knives were my favourite set, smooth leather grips, blades honed to razor-sharp precision. My bow might be my chief weapon, but there is always a special place in my immortal heart for my elegant knives. They'd seen me well through my quest with the Fellowship, through the battles we saw, even to the gates of Mordor themselves; my beautiful blades had soaked themselves in the blood of many Orcs.

  
  


But back to the mystery at hand. I was growing frustrated with the trees themselves. I whispered, called to them, but they would not answer me. The only sound from them was the rustle of wind in their leaves, a quiet symphony that underscored the first glimmers of fear. Then:

  
  


"Who are you..."

  
  


I answered them. "An Elven-warrior, forever beholden to you, my brethren, should you reveal your secrets to me."

  
  


Silence. Then, "Leave, Elf, remnant of the ages. We will not speak with you."

  
  


I called out in Elvish again, but the trees were silent once more. I closed my eyes and sank to my knees, willing back my anger; the trees chose not to speak, this was their right. But no tree had denied its secrets to me for millennia, and I was confused. Remnant of the ages, they had called me. Why?

  
  


Since the trees denied me the knowledge I sought, I must turn to another source of information. I sized up a tall, sturdy tree, and then shot up as fast as I could climb, leaping from branch to branch, enjoying the cool, rough bark under my palms, the stickiness of the sap. I climbed to the uppermost branches; then, clinging to the trunk, I thrust my head out through the thick foliage.

  
  


An explosion of Light. Late afternoon sun that dazzled my eyes, but I didn't blink. Rather, I let myself slowly adjust, drinking in my surroundings. I was perched atop a fragrant evergreen tree, swaying slowly in the warm breeze. Beneath me, I saw the thick spread of forest, stretching off over the horizon towards the north, east, and south. But I could see open land to the west, and what appeared to be the glimmer of water.

  
  


Now I had a quandary; what to do now? The forest provided good cover, and, as a Sylvan elf, I'd alway felt more comfortable under a canopy of trees. But I was alone, and there was the feeling of menace, of creeping darkness, that grew in my mind. If I had to spend the night in this unsettling forest, I'd prefer to be nearer to the border. So I decided to go west. Ha! How ironic.

  
  


Leaping from branch to branch, tree to tree, I began to feel a little better. A warm breeze in your hair, the swaying trees under your body, heaving and dropping, then leaping just when the tree dipped too low for comfort; all this lightened my heart. To cheer myself, I began to sing an elven song, about the trees, the sea, and our destiny in the west. My voice carried on the wind, and a curious crow stopped and stared as I leapt past, my long blond hair streaming behind me. Then, a slightly melancholy song, from Lorien:

  
  


"I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew,

of wind I sang, a wind there came, and in the branches blew.

Beyond the Sun, beyond the moon, the foam was on the Sea,

and by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden tree.

Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,

in Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.

There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,

while here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.

Oh Lorien! The winter comes, the bare and leafless day;

the leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.

Oh Lorien! Too long have I dwelt upon this Hither Shore,

and in the fading crown have twined the golden elanor. 

But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,

what ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?"

  
  


Great. Now I'd gone and gotten all depressed.

  
  


**********

  
  


The sun was dropping in the west when I reached the fringes of the forest, the land settling into a dusky twilight. I dropped from the tree, landing lightly on my feet. Not far away, I could see the reflection of the first stars on water, so I ran in that direction, pleased that my feet made no sound on the short grass. Then I pulled myself up abruptly. Short grass meant a tended area, which meant habitation. And since I was certain that there were no Elves around, for none had answered my calls, meant that I should tread carefully. Most likely, there was a human settlement nearby, but caution wouldn't go astray.

  
  


I had reached the edge of the water, and perceived it to be a vast lake, shining in the silvery light of the moon and stars. I sat for a moment, tilting my head back to admire them, my eyes searching instinctively for...

  
  


Eärendil was missing.

  
  


The bright Elven-star was not twinkling in the heavens where it belonged. By the Valar...

  
  


I heard a loud splash, and my head snapped around in time to see a massive tentacle arcing towards me. Three more were waving and thrashing, trying to knock me over, wrap themselves around me, drag me into the water...

  
  


I bit back a curse and whipped out my bow, firing an arrow straight into the centre of the mass of tentacles. It didn't deter the horrible creature, so I fired again and again. Then, I threw aside my bow, and drew my knives. Slashing and chopping anytime a tentacle came within reach, my blades flew in a blur. I was soaked to the skin, and bleeding where the beast's clawed suckers had grazed my arm and shoulders. But, the tentacles were starting to ooze blood from the slashes I'd been inflicting, and, with a loud groaning sound, the creatures vanished back into the water, trailing blood and gore. I retrieved my bow, sheathed my knives and quickly retreated from the water's edge, my body aching and my mind whirling, and not merely from being attacked by the Watcher in the Water-like creature.

  
  


The stars were different here, the trees didn't know me...I was afraid, really afraid for the first time. This wasn't my world. I was somewhere...else.

  
  


I ran, looking for a safe place, if one existed in the cursed place. But I froze, seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. Slowly, very slowly, I turned.

  
  


A tree. A massively tall tree, its limbs waving back and forth against the wind. The tree was moving by its own accord. An Ent, perhaps? I prayed it was so, creeping towards it.

  
  


The tree sensed my intent, and sent out a query. "Who are you?" 

  
  


I saw no harm in being brutally honest. "Legolas Greenleaf, an Elf of Mirkwood, and the night is dark, and the stars are strange to me, and I am bleeding, and cold, and three thousand years of immortality do me no good, for I am so, so afraid..."

  
  


A wave of warmth and comfort emanated from the tree, a giant willow. "An Elf...my mother's great-great grandsire spoke of Elves as friends and brethren, though I have never met one. Come to me, small one, and let my waving arms protect you from harm." 

  
  


If you cannot trust a tree, who can you trust? I climbed quickly, and felt the willow slow her boughs into a soothing, rocking motion. Trying to quash my terror at this unknown world, I let my mind slip into the gentle pathways of Elvish dreams.

  
  


Next chapter: When Prof. Sprout finds a tall, gorgeous man asleep in the Whomping Willow, what will she do? Is Hogwarts ready for a meeting with a full-blooded Elven-lord? Review and find out! 

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	3. Blood Trail to the Whomping Willow

A Note From Sun Queen: Okay, first things first, huge thank-you to all the reviewers. Hugs, snuggles, and cookies for all of you! :). Fics like this are kept alive by the generous support of viewers like *you*. Lookie kids, it's your PBS message for the day, and you didn't even have to shell out your hard-earned cash!

  
  


Another small thing, the song Legolas sang last chapter is one sung by Galadriel in the Fellowship of the Ring, I forget which chapter, and I'm too damned lazy to look it up. 

  
  


Anyways, just to clarify, this fic is set after the Last War of the Ring, so it's post-ROTK, maybe by a few years, but before Frodo and Bilbo go West with the Elves. Legolas has been back in Mirkwood for a while, after travelling with Gimli. In the HP universe, it's the beginning of Harry's fifth year. It is being told from Legolas' point of view, but I might begin switching back and forth later on. And I swear, this story is not just going to ramble on and on, it actually has a point, and is not *shudder* a Mary-Sue. There is no romance and no original characters. You want original characters, go read Valkyries. It has three kickass heroines, so if you just want some girl-power, go read it. And this concludes my shameless self-promotion. Read on for the further adventures of the Prince of Mirkwood in the strange new world. 

  
  
  
  


Chapter Two: A Blood Trail to the Whomping Willow 

  
  


When I woke up, the sun was shining brightly, and a finch was twittering somewhere near my left hand. I stretched my limbs experimentally, sitting up on the willow branch on which I'd slept, trying to fool myself into believing that last night had just been a horrible dream. Nice try, Legolas. At least the world seemed calmer this morning. I could regroup, gather my thoughts, try to piece together my location...

  
  


The morning peace was abruptly shattered by a wailing shriek that made my ears ring. It was coming from the lakeshore, where I'd fought the Watcher last night, and I watched in horrified fascination as scaly, man-like creatures with wild, tangled hair broke the surface of the water, giving forth their piercing, furious diatribes. They saw the blood from the battle on the rocks, which sent them into a frenzy. Oh dear.

  
  


I could only watch in growing horror as men and women, humans, I saw, came running down from the hill I'd seen last night. In the growing light of day, I saw a massive stone dwelling, bedecked with towers, balustrades...bigger than any of the human buildings that *I'd* ever seen, larger even than the Palace of Gondor in Minas Tirith. What *was* this place?

  
  


Oh, Valar help me. There was a pack of humans on the shore now, some dozen or more, listening to the furious creatures. One old human, a man with a long silvery beard, stepped away and addressed his companions. He was far away, but I have good ears, and managed to pick up the gist of what he was saying.

  
  


"The merfolk say someone attacked the giant squid last night, apparently with a knife...they are quite upset, to say the least..."

  
  


I was growing more and more nervous; my hiding place in the willow suddenly seemed quite precarious. The humans were drawing closer, near enough for me to notice their distinctive robes, long, and in varying styles and colours. Ha. Made me think of Lord Elrond. No, no, Legolas, *focus*.

They were chattering amongst themselves in Common-Tongue, rather than Sindarin or Quenya. Certainly humans, then. At a command from the Silver-beard, they split into groups, each one drawing a slender wooden rod. I was confused; these didn't look dangerous, but a little warning voice began to sing in the back of my head. I closed my eyes, letting my mind flow with my instincts; these were different humans than I had known. Different, and quite possibly dangerous. I realized with a pang that I had no idea what their intentions would be towards a lone Elf.

  
  


Time to ask the tree. I kept my eyes shut, and concentrated my thoughts: "I am afraid. These people are unknown to me, and I do not understand their intentions."

  
  


The willow's response was mellow and comforting. "Stay in my arms, small one. They fear me, fear my power. I will protect you. You are well-hidden; they won't find you."

  
  


"Professor!"

  
  


A very loud voice, coarsened by a heavy accent, getting closer. I willed myself to disappear into the leaves.

  
  


"There's blood on the ground over here, Professor!"

  
  


My eyes widened. My feet may have left no trace of my passing last night, but a bleeding wound leaves a pretty obvious trail. I silently and furiously cursed my clumsiness as all the humans flocked towards the speaker, a giant of a man, and slowly began to trace the line of dried red spatters, slowly, slowly, towards the willow...

  
  


"Oh dear. Hold on tight, small one." The tree's mellow voice had become rather anxious, and I instinctively caught hold of the trunk.

  
  


With that, the tree whipped itself into a frenzy. I was relatively secure on my perch next to the trunk, but I pitied anyone who was caught in the path of one of the willow's thrashing branches. There were shouts from the group of humans, as they quickly backed away from the furious tree. I was frantically working out a plan; the willow couldn't protect me for long. I had to get away, to the forest where I'd found myself yesterday. Humans wouldn't have a *hope* of catching a Mirkwood Elf once he got under the forest canopy...

  
  


"There's someone in the Whomping Willow! Quickly, Hagrid, freeze it!"

  
  


Suddenly, the willow's branches stiffened, then froze solid. I caught sight of the giant, brandishing a long pole. "No!" came the tree's anguished cry. "Run, small one!"

  
  


I didn't wait for a second invitation. I vaulted from my perch, using every ounce of strength in my legs to propel my self into the air. I had shot through the foliage, hit the ground in a shoulder roll, and was on my feet, running, before any of the humans could react. I was sprinting for the forest when I heard them shouting, and I put on a burst of speed. Almost there... Then, a single roar behind me: "Stupefy!"

  
  


There was a whoosh that blew my hair about, and I was suddenly struck by a blast of icy, solid...*magic*. I almost screamed aloud as I felt the raw power surging along under my skin, behind my eyes, through my heart. Magic, and deadly strong, the strongest spell I'd felt since my last visit to 'Lorien. Magic this powerful, in the hands of humans! No! This wasn't right, this couldn't be right...the shock made my eyes water, made by breath come in gasps.

  
  


The spell was dragging at me, pulling me towards the icy blackness. But I refused to give in; gathering every scrap of will and my own innate Elf-magic, I visualized the power as thousands of black cords trying to entangle me. With a Elven battle scream, I threw off the bewitchment, and kept running. I had almost reached the cover of the forest...

  
  


"Stupefy!"

  
  


"Stupefy!"

  
  


"Petrificus Totalus!"

  
  


"Impedius Mobilius!"

  
  


Too many enchantments for a lone Elf to fight off. I felt them surging through me, muffling my spirit and my magic, making the world spin around me. The power crackled through my hair, along my nerves, coursing under my skin, deadening my reflexes and senses as it went. Cold and dizzy, I tried to draw my daggers, but my legs buckled underneath me, and I hit the ground hard, cursing loudly in Elvish at my disobedient body. To my horror, the suffocating darkness didn't take me, and I was left lying helpless, unable to move, mere strides away from safety of the forest.

  
  


And, to make my day *that* much worse, grim-faced humans were bearing down on me, brandishing what were obviously their wizards' staffs, (though they were so small!). Finally, they were standing in a ring around me, faces cold and eyes unfriendly, staring at this trespasser who had just ruined their day.

  
  


Well, damn.

  
  


To be continued...review, please! 


	4. Minerva McGonagall's Bad Day

A Note From Sun Queen: Wow, I am in awe of all you sweet reviewer-type people! Warm snuggles and pixie-sticks for all of you! This chapter is told from Professor McGonagall's perspective, just so we can have a look at some one else's idea of Legolas. 

  
  


On another note, people have asked about Elven-magic. Tolkien *does* specifically say that Elves are magical, but their powers seem to vary; for example, Elrond can control the river in his valley, Galadriel can see the future, and so on. I've decided to give Legolas a more latent brand of magic, the kind that's buried deep down where you can't see it. Elven-magic is going to play a *very* big role later on...

  
  


Secondly, since I'm home on spring break, with nothing to do, nowhere to go, and not much of a life, period, I'll be updating this quite a bit. *Believe* me, I'm not usually this prolific.

  
  


And in response to several reviews, I'd *never* hurt Lego-chan! Well, maybe just screw with his mind a little...mwahahaha, okay, a lot. This chapter, and the ones before have been a little dark, but the story will lighten up as we go. And I promise: there will be a vewwy happy ending, (unlike Valkyries, hey, look, even *more* shameless self-promotion!), so read on, Macduff! 

  
  


Shiny New Disclaimer: Every character introduced in this chapter belongs to J.K. I own a pencil case with their likenesses, but nothing else. I am a broke student anyways, and if you want to sue, I'll only be able to give you a lava lamp (with blue goo!) and my Monsters Inc poster. So call off the lawyers!!

  
  


Chapter 3: Minerva McGonagall's Bad Day

  
  


I woke up this morning, and immediately knew that it was going to be one of those glorious days when everything goes smoothly, when the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and my, I think I'll cancel this morning's Transfiguration quiz...I smiled, tugging off my flannel nightgown, and choosing my favourite green robes from the armoire. Yes, today was going to be a marvellous day. 

My lovely mood was abruptly shattered when Esmeralda Hooch, the flying teacher, crashed through my door, without knocking, I might add! She grabbed my wrist, tugging urgently. Her yellow eyes were wide and anxious, and her short grey hair poked out in tufts and spikes, as though she'd been roused out of a warm bed.

  
  


"Minerva, come quickly! Something's wrong with the merfolk!"

  
  


The merfolk? My heart skidded a little, as the day's first complication made itself apparent. I snatched my wand as I hurried out the door, Esmeralda close on my heels. I could feel the smile start to slip away. Correction, Minerva: today is going to be a very *bad* day.

  
  


************

  
  


This is how I found myself by the lakeshore, listening to the screeching of an old mermaid, the leader of the lake-dwellers. Albus was leaning forward, listening intently. Bless the man. Wish I had half his talent for languages.

  
  


Finally, Albus turned towards us, directing our attention to a pile of rocks several metres away. Upon closer inspection, I realized the rocks were spattered and stained with blood. Good Lord...

  
  


Albus adjusted his half-moon spectacles, and stared at us solemnly. "The merfolk say that somebody attacked the giant squid last night, apparently with a...knife. The merfolk are extremely upset, to say the least." He looked puzzled, and rightfully so. Who in Hogwarts would wield a knife to cause damage? And the giant squid...*I* felt no affection for the creature, nuisance that it was, but the merfolk looked upon it as a pet. And even I couldn't ignore the vicious battle that had been waged here...blood and gore, all over the rocks, a brutal attack by a knife-wielding assailant. This was a truly horrifying act, perpetrated by someone with no regard for life. I felt rage crystalize in my belly.

  
  


I could see the other professors were as horrified as I was, and many were starting to look extremely angry. 

  
  


Albus glanced at us. "It is doubtful that the perpetrator is still anywhere," he said heavily. "Nonetheless, we must still search the area. We will split off into groups, and perform a thorough sweep. Wands out, my friends. If you come across something suspicious, summon me immediately."

  
  


I drifted towards Poppy Pomfrey and Esmeralda, and together, we wandered down the lakeshore, scanning around us, and murmuring quietly amongst ourselves.

  
  


"Can you believe this?" asked Esmeralda, her hawk-eyes still wide.

  
  


"It's absolutely horrifying," agreed Poppy. She shuddered. "I'd hate to think a student was responsible for such brutality. Fair gives me the shivers."

  
  


"Well, there will be hell to pay," I said grimly, "When we catch whoever did it."

  
  


At that moment, I heard Hagrid shouting, something about a blood trail. I smiled. Dear old Hagrid, a bit rough, but he certainly had a head on his shoulders. I extended my arm. "Shall we, ladies?"

  
  


Her mouth twisted into a feral grin, Esmeralda nodded. "Let's."

  
  


************

  
  


The spattered red trail led straight towards the Whomping Willow. I approached the massive tree cautiously. I'd had a nasty run-in with this violent tree the year after it was planted; I'd been in the hospital wing for two days, nursing the bruises. But today, the Willow was swaying peacefully. Severus stepped forward, his eyes on the blood trail, meaning to take a closer look. Suddenly, he leapt back, almost knocked off his feet as one of the Willow's branches swept out, slicing the air where he'd been standing only an instant before. Cursing, we all dove for cover as the Willow whipped about furiously.

  
  


At that second, I saw a flicker of movement amid the flying foliage; a quick flash of brown and gold, which vanished as soon as I laid eyes on it. But my colleagues had seen it too, and Dumbledore called out to Hagrid to freeze the tree. The big gamekeeper grabbed a half-rotted branch, and, reaching in with his long arms, frantically jabbed until he hit the knot among the roots that froze the Willow.

  
  


The tree's whipping limbs instantly halted, frozen in gruesome twisted attitudes. I didn't have time to breathe a sigh of relief before a figure shot out of the Willow's arms, tumbling to the ground some distance away. Before I had my hand halfway to my wand pocket, the blur of brown and gold was on its feet, sprinting towards the Forbidden Forest. 

  
  


Around me, teachers swore and gave chase. Severus was the first to get his wand clear. Whipping it through the air, he bellowed: "Stupefy!"

  
  


Which was all well and good...until the spell hit the sprinting figure. I watched as it stumbled a few steps, then regained equilibrium and kept running.

  
  


My jaw must have dropped a mile. Around me, I could hear gasps of shock and squawks of incredulity. We had all seen the Severus hit the runner with a full-powered Stupefaction spell, to no avail. Meanwhile, the fugitive was almost to the border of the Forest. I swore as I dropped into a firing crouch; if it got to the dark, tangled woods, we'd never catch it.

  
  


Around me, my colleagues had prepared their spells. I raised my wand and cried: "Petrificus Totalus!" I heard several "Stupefy!" and one "Impedius Mobilius!" That would be Albus, of course. Nasty, powerful spell, difficult to control, but it would bring down the fleeing stranger, no doubt about it. 

  
  


I watched as the runner's legs buckled. The figure turned, scrabbling at its belt, but to no avail. He, (or she?) hit the ground hard, cursing, mere strides away from the Forest's edge. I pocketed my wand with a sigh of relief as we strode towards the still body. It seemed to be a young woman, wearing clothes dyed earthy colours, her long blond hair streaming over the ground.

  
  


As we grew nearer, my eyes widened in shock. Not a girl, as I'd supposed, but a man, little more than a boy; long graceful limbs in an awkward tangle, long, ice-blond hair draped over his back. He wasn't wearing robes; rather, some sort of long-sleeved, belted tunic in a dark green, intricate leather gauntlets, earth-brown leggings, and tall leather boots. His clothes were spattered with blood; a tear in shoulder of his tunic was jagged and bloody, although beneath, I saw a gleam of golden skin. 

  
  
  
  


But he was absolutely...gorgeous. Pale, flawless skin, high cheekbones, a narrowly proportioned nose, a small, set mouth, beautifully arching brows over smoldering dark eyes. And those eyes were currently glaring at us, waiting for our next move, the long, slender fingers of one hand clutched helplessly around the hilt of a curved, elegant dagger. He had no wand that I could see, but had a second knife in his belt. Across his back, he carried some archaic Muggle weapon whose name eluded me, and a slim leather pack.

  
  


And his ears...through the tangle of pale golden hair, I caught a glimpse of delicate, dagger-like points.

  
  


But his eyes were what captivated me; not the eyes of a Muggle, nor those of a wizard. Something dark and dangerous danced there, through his blood and in his heart. Magic simmered, burning to be released; with a flicker of insight, I realized something. Be it a creature of light or darkness, it sure as hell isn't human. 

  
  


Albus stepped forward, his wand trained on the creature. "Who are you?" he asked, power crackling through every word.

  
  


The golden creature didn't seem to hear him. I watched his dark eyes roll back into his head as he mumbled a single word: "Istari." Then, probably from the bombardment of spells, he slipped unconscious.

  
  


I looked at the other teachers in confusion, then to Albus, totally at loss about what to do next. And then I realized: I'd been right. It was going to be a very *bad* day.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


To be continued...When questions are asked and answered...does a creature of Legolas' race and power have a place, even in this world of magic? How did he get here? How will he ever return to his home in the greenwood of Middle-Earth? Will he manage to refrain from killing something? Stay tuned!

  
  
  
  



	5. Hufflepuffs Can't Keep a Secret

A Note From Sun Queen: Hi everyone! A shirtless Legolas scene for all you rabid fangirls out there...well, sorry this took a while, but I had Easter stuff to do this weekend, and I didn't get much time to write. Plus, my brother kidnapped the laptop! Horrors! Honestly, you'd think his English 101 essay was more important than my story...anyhoo, we'll be getting to the main plot shortly; Legolas actually *is* in Hogwarts for a reason, which will be revealed soon.

  
  


Love you, reviewers! I get warm fuzzies when I read all the nice things you guys write. Ivy is calling me a review-slut. I am NOT! Oh, wait, yeah I am.

  
  


Oooh, I actually created a character for this! She's a one-shot plot device. She will never appear again, I swear. No Mary-Sues to muck this story up, don't worry. 

  
  
  
  


Chapter 4: Hufflepuffs Can't Keep a Secret. 

  
  


Well, this certainly was a *bleak* situation, which was a beyond an understatement. I had felt my limbs tingling and burning before the shadows in my head had cleared, so I surmised that I wasn't permanently crippled. One bright spot in a very, *very* dark day.

  
  


My tunic had been opened, and it and my shirt were gone. The air currents danced on my bare chest, but I fought down a shiver. I knew, from the lack of weight on my hips, that my daggers had also been taken, as had my quiver and bow. Well, damn. My captors certainly weren't stupid.

  
  


I wanted to twitch my muscles, experiment with my mobility, but I didn't dare. There were voices in the room with me, so I kept my eyes shut and my breathing steady, waiting, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. I still had no plan, so I followed the conversation, trying to gauge the number of opponents around me, *see* where they were standing. I let their words flow through me, giving my body time to recover from the shock of the human magic.

  
  


"Look at him, Albus! Look at his skin, look at his ears! He *clearly* isn't human..." A woman's voice, sharp and no-nonsense, cut through the mumble of conversation.

  
  


'Albus' replied, "From a first glance, I would tend to agree with you, Minerva. Poppy, can you tell us anything?" I recognized the voice as the one belonging to the Silver-beard I had seen earlier. Perhaps this was the leader of the human magi.

  
  


Another woman, one with a kinder voice, answered him. "I drew a blood sample earlier, and I gave it to Severus to analyse. We'll see what he makes of it, but I can tell you for sure, this boy's no human. *What* he is, I have no idea. I'll have to run some tests, but look at this." 

  
  


Boy? How insulting.

  
  


I felt a gentle, professional touch running down my leg, an arm, then over my bare chest; it sent slivers of ice through my not-yet recovered limbs, but I controlled my body's response, keeping up the pretense of unconsciousness. The sweet-voiced woman continued. "His muscle structure is unlike any I've ever seen before. His skin is an obvious indicator; you can see for yourself that it's slightly incandescent. This could be the result of a spell, but I'm inclined to believe that it is a natural property of his race, whatever he is. And lastly, his ears." She tugged back my hair none-too-gently, and I stifled a yelp. Then I felt her fingers probing indelicately at my extremely sensitive ears, and I managed to refrain from screaming, but only just. It was getting harder and harder to fake unconsciousness, so I let myself slip into a light Elven trance. It was how my people slept, but this had the advantage of leaving me aware of everything around me. 

  
  


I stayed this way as 'Poppy' kept up her examination of my body. After a few more good pokes and prods, she turned away to speak with Minerva and Albus. There was nobody else that I could hear, but the echoes and air currents that hummed in my ears gave me the impression that this room was quite large. And it smelled very clean, almost sterile. There was a faint smell of lilacs, and something acrid hanging in the air.

  
  


I returned my attention to the conversation between the three humans, letting my ears *see* the room and its occupants. They had rejected several theories as to my identity, including something called a "Death Eater", which instinctively repulsed me. 

  
  


"But you cannot dismiss out of hand that this creature is dangerous, Albus!" This was the sharp-voiced woman, Minerva. "His resistance to high-level spells is phenomenal. And what was he doing here, armed to the teeth, anyway? How did he get past the gate?"

  
  


"Questions to which, Minerva, I do not know the answer. However, I suspect that our young friend here, does."

  
  


"We have a school full of students, Albus," said Poppy. "We can't unleash this creature if he's dangerous!" 

  
  


This seemed like an appropriate time to intervene. Keeping my eyes shut, I spoke softly and melodically, the tone for which Elves are renowned. "I wish you would not refer to me as 'boy' or worse, 'creature'. It's really quite rude."

  
  


I sensed the two women jump as I spoke. Albus, however, didn't even twitch. Interesting. I sat up slowly, biting back a groan as my stomach muscles protested, and opened my eyes.

  
  


Well, I had been right; the room was huge. One wall was lined with windows, shafts of morning sunlight pouring lazily onto the polished floors. A line of beds stretched down to the far wall, but they were all empty, save mine. The beds, the size, the smells...this was a healing room of some sort, like the House of Healing in Minas Tirith...oh, look. Now I had a pair of those little wooden staffs aimed at my face. 'Albus' was standing behind the two women, shaking his head, looking amused.

  
  


Minerva had a face to match her voice, sharp-featured and intelligent. Poppy had a rounder face, but her dark eyes glittered dangerously as she waved her staff in my face. "Lie down, my friend, unless you want another round of Stunners to help you sleep."

  
  


I held up my hands in a placating gesture. "Yes, yes, my lady, whatever you wish. But-" I crossed my arms over my bare chest protectively, "May I have my shirt and tunic back? It seems quite undignified to sit about half-naked in a room with two such lovely ladies." Elves can be quite charming, if we have a mind to, and I decided it couldn't hurt to pour it on. So I smiled, a polite, innocent grin; Elrond had once told me it could charm the birds from the trees.

  
  


Poppy's eyebrows flew up, and she turned, incredulous, to Albus and Minerva. Albus nodded, "By all means, dear Poppy, fetch the poor lad his shirt, before he catches his death of cold."

  
  


"Oh," I said with a crooked grin, "I don't think there's much chance of *that*."

  
  


I thought it was quite a witty comment, but it was lost on my audience, who just looked at me oddly as Poppy returned my linen shirt. I set about tugging it over my head, wincing at the muscles that were stiff and sore from that bombardment of spells. 

  
  


"Sweet Mother of Jesus!" Poppy had grabbed my wrist, twisting it so she could see the bottom of my forearm. She stared at the unbroken golden skin, then I met her shocked eyes. "I cut your arm earlier to get a blood sample. Now there's not even a mark! Would you like to explain that?"

  
  


"Indeed, my friend," said Dumbledore, "I would like you to answer a few questions, as we all seem to be very much in the dark." 

  
  


I nodded. "Answers seem like a valuable commodity at the moment. If we trade what we know, then maybe everyone will be happy. Or maybe-"

  
  


"Everyone will be even more confused."

  
  


"Exactly. Is there somewhere private we can speak?" I glanced around. "I do not desire to face down mobs of your students because I hurt the Watcher."

  
  


"The Watcher?" Albus looked confused.

  
  


"The Watcher in the Water..." Now I didn't understand. The creature I'd fought...hadn't it been a Watcher, like the one in Moria?

  
  


Albus just shook his head. "My office is right this way."

  
  


**********

  
  
  
  


This place was massive. Miles and miles of echoing marble corridors, the hum of voices behind each door, curving staircases, portraits of well-dressed people along the walls. All humans, no Elves, no Dwarves, not even a Hobbit to break the monotony. How sad. Somehow, it didn't even seem odd that these paintings were whispering among themselves, and pointing as I went by.

  
  


Then, as Minerva and Albus were leading me past a particularly mouldy, ancient painting, a creaky old voice whispered: "So your kind's come back. How marvellous."

  
  


The two professors leading me didn't seem to hear, but I flicked my head around in time to see a tall, matron-like woman, her hair full and white, staring at me from a painted canvas. I caught a glimpse of the nameplate below the portrait: Rowena Ravenclaw. Then I was past.

  
  


**********

  
  


Annika Burroughs hadn't meant to get lost. But the first-year Hufflepuff had left Transfiguration class to run to the loo; after all, Professor McGonagall wasn't there, and no one would even notice she was gone.

  
  


But Annika hadn't counted on the staircase switching places while she was halfway up, or Peeves pelting her with soggy parchment balls. She also hadn't counted on the door refusing to open, or a very depressed ghost howling and flooding the bathroom. Confused and disoriented, the little Hufflepuff girl was now totally lost; not a great start to her very first week at Hogwarts.

  
  


So she hurried down the unfamiliar corridor, praying that she'd find her way back to Transfiguration class before McGonagall returned and discovered she was gone. Suddenly, she heard voices around the corner, so she ducked behind a pillar. To her horror, the figures who appeared were her scary Transfiguration teacher, and Professor Dumbledore, the *Headmaster*! Annika tucked herself farther behind the column, hoping they wouldn't notice her.

  
  


But who was that, coming up behind Dumbledore with a long, fluid stride? Annika stared as time seemed to slow, the young man passing her as though he was moving through water. He was...ooooh, he was...

  
  


Annika felt her knees go weak. A gorgeous face, long silky blond hair, dark eyes, a sculpted body in tight brown pants and a white shirt. She watched him as the group moved further up the corridor.

  
  


He looked just as good from behind...

  
  


And so Annika Burroughs became the first Hogwarts student to catch a glimpse of Legolas Greenleaf, Elf, Prince, and all-around enchanting guy.

  
  


And everyone knows Hufflepuffs can't keep secrets.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To be continued...what has become of Elves in this world? Why does Rowena Ravenclaw recognize Legolas? And when will we see a real plot? Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court! Clicky clicky, please review! 

  
  



	6. A Little Author's Note

Just a Little Note: 

  
  


People! Don't worry! In case I didn't make it really clear, Annika is a is a one-shot character. She appears in 4 paragraphs and that's it, folks. She'll never be mentioned again. I put her in because I wanted to show the reaction of a Hogwarts student to Legolas, but I didn't want to use a known person, like Hermoine or Pavarti. If you wanna know, she was named after Annakas, my first reviewer. Love ya, Annakas!

  
  


Also, major apologies to all 'cause I screwed up the canon. Thanks to Amy for pointing out that the star's name is Elendil, not Earendil like I said in the first chapter. Grrr, stupid confusing Elven names, Celeborn and Celebrian, Elendil and Earendil, Elassar and Estel (the same person, no less!) Anyway, much sorriness to everybody, and huge thank-yous to all reviewers. Look for the next chapter on Monday or Tuesday, when we'll finally discover *why* Legolas is in this world. Happy Easter everyone! Cheers, Sun Queen

  
  


P.S. Hey Amy, my sister and beta-reader, Ivy, is tearing her hair because she missed the Earendil reference. Kudos to you! :) 


	7. Belief (sort of), and Trust (almost!)

A Note From Sun Queen: Hi people! This chapter, and the one that comes after it, are devoted to that most horrifying of themes, plot development. *shudder*. Therefore, we don't see a lot of action in this chapter, or the next, but I've tried to keep in interesting regardless. But once I've got everything explained, you'd better hang on tight, 'cause you're in for one hell of a ride. Once we get into the main plot, I'd advise anyone who has an intense love for Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, to stop reading.

  
  


And, since all my copies of the FOTR have been leant to cousins, the great Elendil/Earendil debate rages on. If *anybody* knows for certain what it is, for all that is good and holy, TELL ME!!! Ivy, my beta, is going crazy!

  
  


Oh, and for the people who don't know, Istari are the brotherhood of wizards in Middle-Earth. Gandalf the Grey, Saruman the White, and Radagast the Brown are all Istari. Legolas assumes the teachers at Hogwarts are Istari because these are the only humans he knows who can perform magic. Elessar is one of Aragorn's Elven-names, the one that Legolas uses for him in this chapter. 

  
  


I am pleased to report that I now have the entire story mapped out in my head. Now all that remains is to get said story down on paper. Oh, the fun, the fun... 

  
  


Oh, Ivy said to tell people this: if you want to archive this story, let me know first, okay?

  
  


Chapter 5: Belief (sort of), and Trust (almost!)

  
  


Albus' office was an odd place, to be certain. Unfamiliar whirring silver contraptions, portraits of slumbering old men and women on the walls, a huge window that overlooked the tended green lawns, and the glimmering sapphire lake. I followed the old man inside, and settled into a chair opposite his desk. Minerva stood behind me, and I could feel her eyes tracking my every move. Suspicious old woman. Then again, I would most likely feel the same way if I found her wandering about Mirkwood, killing off the attercops.

  
  


"Now," said Albus, adjusting a pair of crescent-shaped lenses over his eyes, "I would appreciate some answers from you. To begin, will you tell me your name?"

  
  


Well, I'd been raised as a prince; I knew a thing or two about diplomacy, and Elves are cautious by nature. So I kept my tone polite as I leaned forward. "Isn't it customary for the captors to introduce themselves first?"

  
  


Albus raised an eyebrow; behind me, I could hear Minerva shifting impatiently. Bu the old man was more than willing to play my game. "Very well. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The lady behind you is one of my colleagues, Professor Minerva McGonagall."

  
  


I inclined my head slightly. "Charmed. May I assume that you are Istari?"

  
  


"Excuse me?" Albus looked slightly confused. "I am not familiar with the term Istari. Would you care to explain it?"

  
  


Now this was tricky; trying explain something that needed no explanation in my world. I struggled to express it in ways they would understand. "In my world, the Istari are a...brethren, of sorts." I trailed off, wondering how I could continue. "Maiar, in the form of Men, sent by the Valar to aid the Free Peoples in the fight against the darkness."

  
  


I could see that my explanation had been useless, for now Minerva and Albus were totally confused. The old man rubbed his forehead as though he could feel a headache coming on. "Please, my friend, start at the beginning. Tell me who you are, and where you come from. What do you mean, your world?"

  
  


I took a deep breath, preparing to take the plunge. Once they found out who I was, there would be no turning back. I would have to trust these Istari with my life and welfare. "Very well. My name..." I paused for effect, "Is Legolas Greenleaf, Crown Prince of Mirkwood Forest, Guardian of the Realm of Free Elven-People of Middle-Earth, once one of the Nine Walkers of the Ring. I am an Elf-" here I pulled back my golden hair to indicate my dagger-pointed ears, "-and I was born three thousand years ago, before the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. I am also an Ally of the Rohirrim and of Gondor, and a Dwarf-friend." Here I paused, considering. Oh well, a little extra information couldn't hurt; I was already in way over my head. "I am also utterly lost, your trees won't talk to me, and the Elendil is missing in your sky, and if you can help me, I would really like to go home now."

  
  


Well, if it was possible to overload a human mind with information, I had certainly achieved it. Albus and Minerva simply stared at me, and I knew they hadn't understood a single word I said. I opened my mouth to continue, but Albus held up a hand. "Start over." he begged. "And explain everything." 

  
  


I sighed, and let my head thud down on the polished oak surface of his desk. Valar help me, this was going to be a very, *very* long day...

  
  


**********

  
  


It seemed like hours had passed before Minerva and Albus understood everything that I was explaining to them. It was bloody hard to give them a brief sketch of the history of Middle-Earth, the Free-peoples, the Valar, the Dark Lord, the Rings of Power and the War of the One Ring. I certainly hope they appreciated the history lesson.

  
  


Although they had no trouble grasping that I was from another world, or that I had been brought here somehow by magical means, they couldn't get their minds around the fact that I was an Elf. I had showed them my ears, described my race in *excruciating* detail, and finally, exasperated, I had raked one of Albus' writing quills down my arm to show them how the gash had healed minutes later. 

They still were not convinced, and I had no idea why. If they had reasons for their disbelief, they chose not to share them with me.

  
  


Finally, Albus stood up. "I must consult with my colleagues on this matter. I would appreciate it if you would wait here, Master..."

  
  


"Legolas." I supplied. "Just call me Legolas."

  
  


"Legolas." he nodded. Not a bad pronunciation. He didn't butcher the syllables the way so many humans did. Leg-OOOO-las, Leg-lass...it made me cringe.

  
  


As Minerva and Albus exited the room, I heard the door lock with an barely audible *snickt*. Hmmm. Apparently, trust only went so far. Well, I'd have to entertain myself in this bizarre office until someone saw fit to release me. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long. Elves literally go crazy if we're shut up too long, and I didn't want Albus coming back to discover either a comatose shell or a homicidal maniac. Although homicidal does sound like fun...

  
  


I stood up and stretched my muscles, stiff from sitting down for so long. Then I moved over to the window, wishing I was outside, exploring the Forest, or at least somewhere where I could feel the wind in my hair and the Sun on my face. I felt the first prickles of anxiety under my skin, the feeling of tenseness that is common in shut-up Elves, much like claustrophobia in Humans. I hurriedly cast my mind about for a distraction; the last time I nearly went stir-crazy was when the Nine Walkers travelled through Moria. I'd been a wreck by the time we finally made it out; a stay with the sympathetic elves of 'Lorien was the only thing that kept me from being permanently scarred.

  
  


Elves...my journey with the Fellowship, and the trials that followed, made me appreciate my kindred for the first time in my long life. I had never realized how much we miss the company of our own kind, until I was separated from them those long, weary months. It's almost a physical sensation; a gnawing in your mind that never quite goes away. It builds up over time, until it feels like a massive burden is crushing you. It's nothing against humans, or hobbits or dwarves for that matter, but I crave the company of my own kind the way I need the fresh air and open land around me to survive.

  
  


Thank the Valar for Elessar, though. Having a human who was Elf-raised was the only thing that kept me from going utterly mad on that endless quest. Sometimes I engaged him in long, pointless conversations in Elvish, about the colour of the leaves, the whisper of the wind, or the voices in the land, simply because the desire to hear my own language was crushing me. Bless Elessar; he was one gruff human, but he humoured me, and would sometimes recite Elven poetry at night when the darkness grew too oppressive.

  
  


But Elessar wasn't here. None of my kindred were here. I was alone, and I was starting to go crazy. Damn.

  
  


I was staring longingly out the window when I heard the swish of feathered wings behind me. I turned my face slightly and saw a most beautiful bird perched on the desk, staring at me. He was large, about the size of a swan, with shining scarlet and gold plumage, a long beak, and a sweeping tail. He cocked his head, and stared at me inquisitively with his dark, bright eyes. He was the loveliest bird I had ever seen. 

  
  


I smiled, and held out a hand to him. "Hello, my friend," I whispered, "Where did *you* come from?"

  
  


In reply, he fluttered off the desk and settled comfortably on my arm. I felt a sense of peace pervade me as he stroked his soft, feathered head against my cheek. I hummed a snatch of an Elven melody, a sweet, wordless tune about spring in the forest. To my surprise, he began to sing back in a warm, quavering tone, a tumble of sweet notes that banished my invading sense of darkness and despair.

  
  


I held my arm still for a very long time, letting the bird sing to me, and in turn, singing to him. The sun had travelled some distance across the sky before Albus Dumbledore returned, but I felt far better now than I had when he left. 

Albus sat down at his desk again, looking amused when he saw the bird perched on my arm. I settled myself in the opposite chair, letting the feathered creature flutter away. I raised an eyebrow. "Well? Have your colleagues passed judgement on me?"

  
  


Albus looked solemn. "Some of them were in favour of turning you over to the Ministry of Magic. One," he shook his head in mock despair, "-wanted to simply feed you to the Giant Squid and be done with it. However, I believe you can be trusted."

  
  


"Why?" The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. But I was genuinely curious; what made this old man trust me?

  
  


Albus looked me straight in the eyes, and I felt his power, like that of Mithrandir, to stare right into your soul, and see the secrets lying hidden there. "I have *seen* evil, Legolas." he said grimly. "I have seen the foulest, most contemptible darkness that beings may harbour. You-" he jabbed a hand at me, "-are not evil."

  
  


I must say, I was awed by this speech. Albus stood, beckoning me towards the door. "Come. I'll show you the castle."

  
  
  
  


To be continued...what does Rowena Ravenclaw know? Why doesn't anybody believe Legolas is an Elf? Will the female student population be able to restrain themselves as a Prince walks right out of a fairy-tale and into real life? Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court! 


	8. Secrets in the Shadows

A Note From Sun Queen: Hey everybody! It's Easter break and I'm B-O-R-E-D!! I went to see LOTR again yesterday with my cousin. She *loved* it, and I was a happy, happy camper because...I SAW THE TWO TOWERS TRAILER!!!!!! It looks AMAZING!! Oh, the three Hunters (L/A/G) discover Gandalf in Fangorn, and you should see the looks on their faces, they're absolutely priceless...and the Helm's Deep sequences look cool beyond all description. And Eowyn! She's a sword-slinging kickass chick, and there's a clip where she and Aragorn are fighting, and it's just a blur...Aaaaaaaauuuuuuggggggghh, December can't come fast enough!!

  
  


In the last chapter, I wrote in my favourite style; that is, just letting a character muse, and seeing where their train of thought goes. Nothing Legolas thought is strictly canon, but it makes sense if you think about it. The desire to see other Elves is rapidly becoming important to Legolas, as you will see in this chapter. I really do love to let a character ponder, and see what develops. But when I do it, it helps advance the plot, so what Legolas is musing now will be important later on.

  
  


This chapter is still from Legolas' point of view, although it switches to Hermione Granger's for the last part. Why? Because I had to write from the perspective of somebody watching Legolas, and I chose Hermione. 

  
  


Anyhoo, sorry the chapter took so long, stuff just conspired so I didn't have time to write. Read on!

  
  


Chapter 6: Secrets in the Shadows

  
  


As he led me down the massive marble corridors, Albus told me of the history of his magical world. He recounted the fear ordinary folk held of magic, and of how the generations of witches and wizards had concealed themselves, living in a secret world that Muggles never saw, nor dreamed existed. As I followed the old human down a long, curving flight of stairs, I reflected on how lucky I had been to have found myself here, among these magical folk, rather than among ordinary, disbelieving humans. The Valar only knows what might have befallen me...

  
  


Then, Albus told me of Voldemort, and of the war that was brewing.

  
  


"Ai," I sighed. "I can sympathise, my friend, for my land is only now recovering from the terrifying shadow that stretched out to engulf it. I know what it means to fight for your home, your people, and your very freedom."

  
  


"Indeed." agreed Albus. "From the tales you tell, one can certainly draw parallels between our two magical worlds. I can only hope that we will prevail as the Light has in your time and space."

  
  


Just then, we rounded a corner, and almost ran headlong into a large group of young girls. They were whispering amongst themselves, and when the saw us, their eyes grew huge.

  
  


I looked at Albus in confusion; he rolled his eyes. So I turned back to the girl-children and smiled my most charming grin. "Good afternoon, my ladies."

  
  


As I followed Albus past the children, down the hall, I could hear girlish giggles and stifled whoops behind us. 

  
  


And at least one: "Will you look at the bloody arse on that man?"

  
  


And another: "He's *gorgeous*!"

  
  


I shrugged to myself. Perhaps they've never seen an Elf before. Hope they never meet Glorfindel, they wouldn't be able to detach themselves from him...

  
  


Past a few more portraits, down another hall, and Albus stopped in front of a sturdy oak door. "We've prepared a room for you, I hope you will be comfortable." He raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe that we've ever had to see to the comfort of an Elf. I do hope you will find it satisfactory. Dinner is in the Great Hall in one hour. Shall I send someone to fetch you?"

  
  


I nodded. "Thank you very much, I appreciate your pains."

  
  


Albus smiled. "I will see you at dinner, Legolas." He disappeared down the corridor, and I opened the door and went into my room.

  
  


It was a very pleasant chamber; late afternoon sun streamed through the large window, and a faded, though lovely tapestry covered the bare stone walls. The wooden floor was smooth beneath my boots, and an elaborately carved bed stood in the corner, under the window. There was an empty stone fireplace in one wall, and a door that led off to a small bathing area. I smiled; my freshly-laundered green tunic, my bow, my quiver, and my knives had been laid neatly on the bed covers. There was an upholstered chair in the corner, and there I left my bow and arrows. However, rather than return my blades to my belt, I stuck them in my boot sheathes. It was not very diplomatic, nor very polite, to display your weapons openly before your hosts.

  
  


I had decided to think of Albus and his colleagues as hosts, rather than captors. They had no more idea as to what I was doing here than I did, and I forgave their suspicions once I knew their story. People on the brink of war are unlikely to welcome a heavily armed stranger with open arms.

  
  


I opened the window as wide as it would go, to let in fresh air. I had never understood how humans could stand having heavy stone walls between themselves and the sun and wind. Then I went into the bathing room. 

  
  


After much time, and quite a bit of trial and error, I unlocked the secrets of the human plumbing system, and managed to clean myself up. I stood in front of the mirror, bare to the waist, combing my long blond hair. Dark eyes stared back at me, set in a chiselled face; a smooth, leanly muscled torso; my hair hanging damp and glistening. I mused about the reactions of the teachers and children to my appearance; I am considered quite attractive for an Elf, though certainly not the most beautiful, but humans are naturally drawn to my kind. I had often pondered as to the reasons for this attraction, and had decided that we Elves were a mix of the familiar and the ethereal; that is, we were similar enough that we did not seem threatening to humans, but with enough mystery and grace to set us apart, planting us firmly in the realm of magic and Light. As Samwise Gamgee had once told me, Elves were special. "There's magic, right down deep, where you can't lay your hands on it." I sighed. Pity the hobbits weren't here...I could just see Frodo and Sam, their curly heads bobbing as they wandered up and down the halls, staring at the paintings, taking everything in. Merry and Pippin would be causing some sort of mischief, like knocking a suit of armour down the stairs...

  
  


Enough, Legolas. I firmly quashed the thoughts of home, and my laughing little friends. I would be late for dinner if I didn't hurry, and I would do myself no good dwelling on sweet memories. 

  
  


I finished combing my hair, and began to plait my customary braids. When I had finished, I looked much improved; a long sweep of silky white-gold hair, hanging straight and clean down my bare back, slim, tight braids tucked behind my shell-pointed ears. I pulled my pale linen shirt over my head, then donned my clean tunic. When I was finished, I pulled on my leather and silver gauntlets, and brushed off my boots. They weren't fancy, but at least they weren't mud-stained.

  
  


Finally done, I dubiously eyed my reflection from head to toe in the glass. My skin was glowing and my hair was long and clean. My forest-green tunic hung to the middle of my thighs, gathered at my hips by my leather belt. The sleeves ended above the elbows, showing the gleam of my linen shirt where it met my gauntlets. Nondescript brown leggings flowed into black leather walking-boots. I looked presentable, but not dressed up, and certainly not princely. Well, hopefully, dinner was no formal affair in this place... 

  
  


**********

  
  


The darkness engulfs me. All hope is dead, withered and strewn on the wind like last autumn's leaves. This world of magic and despair has no place for me, and the peace of Mirkwood, my forest and my home, seems so far beyond my grasp.

  
  


Ai, Valar help me, I have seen the Elves.

  
  


It began innocently enough, when I went down to dinner. I was escorted by a tall, dark-complected young woman who wore a silver badge. She squeaked when she opened my door, and seemed unable to converse for the duration of our walk to the Great Hall. When we met Albus, she stammered and blushed fiercely before positively fleeing down the hall. Humans, who can figure them?

  
  


Albus had led me into an enormous room, as large as the Throne Room of Mirkwood. Long tables stretched from end to end, which seated chattering, black-robed children. Lit taper-candles hovered high in the air, suspended by some enchantment. I followed the old human towards the head table where his colleagues were seated, quite aware of the ripple of voices that followed me, faces snapping around to catch a glimpse. I kept my stride even and regal and held my head high, centuries of experience in the Royal Court of my home finally paying off.

  
  


There was a flurry of whispers when Albus stood to speak; all heads turned towards me as the old human announced me as Master Legolas Greenleaf, an unexpected guest, recently arrived from overseas. I managed to refrain from rolling my eyes; *that* was an understatement...Albus continued, saying that I was to be treated with every courtesy during my stay at Hogwarts. He seemed to direct this comment most especially to the young women seated at the tables, most of whom were falling over themselves staring at me, or whispering to their friends. I wanted to sigh; poor creatures, ruled by their hearts and not their heads. I hoped age would knock some sense into them.

  
  


Then, as Albus called for food, I *felt* it. A jagged fork of lightning through my brain, a singing current surging through my blood. Elves! Kindred! My kind, somewhere nearby, lurking unseen. I sneaked a look at Albus; nothing out of the ordinary was revealed on his face. So, holding my hand to my mouth as though stifling a yawn, I called out softly in Elvish. Too low for humans to hear, I whispered to my hidden brethren. 

  
  


Nothing. The warning vanished from my blood as though it had never been. But I *knew* I had felt the presence of other Elves...

  
  


...More the fool am I, three thousand years old, and still unable to resist the pull of my own kind. So, after dinner, when the castle was dark and quiet for the night, I left my room to seek for the ones I had sensed in the Great Hall.

  
  


Hogwarts was quite different after night had fallen; I rather liked it. The bustle and thrum of human activity was gone, replaced by the creaking of old wood, the low humming of air currents, the sighing of the wind outside...I walked with my eyes closed, enraptured, listening to the voice of the old castle, letting it sing to me.

  
  


And then...a quiet shuffling, the hum of a little voice. And the feeling of recognition nearly blasted me through the wall.

  
  


Horror flew through me, and I couldn't breathe. The creature who scampered past was small and misshapen, stunted limbs flying as it continued its ungainly trot. Massive, bulging eyes, a squashed nose, a swatch of fabric draped like a toga, swirling about as it ran. I thought, for an instant, of the creature Gollum, who had resided in our dungeons for a time. But then I saw them.

  
  


Long, dagger-pointed ears.

  
  


Oh sweet Valar, it all slammed into me at once.

  
  


This was why Albus didn't quite believe me. 

  
  


This was what I had sensed in the Great Hall.

  
  


This was an Elf.

  
  


**********

  
  


I didn't know what had jolted me awake that night. I looked around, and saw my fellow Gryffindors were also awake and rubbing their eyes. 

  
  


Lavender slid out of bed, and padded towards me. "What is it, Hermione?" She sounded anxious, and I jumped out of my tangled bed covers.

  
  


"I don't know." Then, I heard a noise, the same one that had woke me. It was coming from outside, and I ran to the window, Parvati and Lavender close on my heels. It had been a warm evening, so we'd left it wide open.

  
  


Below us, the lawn was bathed in the brightest moonlight. It was surreal, as though I was still asleep and dreaming. Then, I saw him.

  
  


It was the beautiful stranger Professor Dumbledore had introduced at dinner, Legolas Greenleaf. He was gliding across the grass, and he was singing.

  
  


I didn't know the language, but he sounded so...lost. Each word seemed to crystallize the purest despair and grief, rage and pain spun into a song that vented its passion to the unfeeling stars. His blond hair floated in the breeze behind him, and his feet never seemed to touch the ground. And he continued his song, a symphony of utter despair.

  
  


The wind seemed to echo his feelings, sighing mournfully against the window. And the rustling trees whispered of darkness and of something forever lost.

  
  


I heard a choking sound behind me, and I whipped around. Lavender had both hands pressed over her mouth, and she was sobbing bitterly. Beside her, Parvati stood dazed, her eyes wide, tears flowing unheeded down her cheeks.

  
  


I touched my own face and felt warm wetness. Sobs were welling up in my throat, and I couldn't stop them. The pure power of the song held me in its thrall.

  
  


And so I wondered, as I sank to the floor; what had Legolas Greenleaf lost? What bitter grief had driven him to sing to an uncaring sky?

  
  


All rational thought disappeared as I was lost in the song.

  
  
  
  


To be continued...the Elves of this world are servant-creatures who scurry in the shadows. Only one person knows why, and she's been dead for a thousand years. What does Rowena Ravenclaw know? Tune in next week! 


	9. The Many Lives and Secret Sorrows of Row...

A Note From Sun Queen: Well, I'm baa-aacck...I think it was the threats that did it. God, don't you just hate it when an author starts a story, then doesn't update for ages and ages and...oh, we're talking about me, aren't we? Heh heh, oopsie. 

  
  


Anyways, huge thank-yous to all you sweet reviewers, pixie-stix and cinnamon mocha lattes for all of you! I'm so very sorry this chapter took so long, and I hope you won't lynch me...*whimper whimper* Don't hurt me! *Flashes massive Frodo eyes at readers.*

  
  


Anyways, I won't bore you with the billion problems that got in the way of this chapter, which include tests, a pile of plans, and sheer laziness. But to my credit, I rewrote this chapter four bloody times, and I still don't like it. I originally tried to stick in a scene between Harry and Legolas, but I just couldn't make it work, much to my frustration. So this chapter is Harry-less. Grrrrrr...maybe, just maybe, I'll get him in later, but holes in the plot are getting tighter, so it's hard to slip in an extra scene. But I'll try.

  
  


Another reason I haven't been working on this is that I've been reading these really cool books, the Nightrunner Series by Lynn Flewelling. It's an amazing fantasy trilogy, Luck in the Shadows, Stalking Darkness, and Traitor's Moon, and I recommend it to all the LOTR and HP fans out there. It's slashy, but an excellent series for fans of the genre.

  
  


And god bless all you people who are still checking this for updates...after this chapter, plot development is finis. Over. Complete. Nada. It's gonna get fun soon...heh heh heh, look out, sweet prince...

  
  


Chapter 7: The Many Lives and Secret Sorrows of Rowena Ravenclaw

  
  


The sky had begun to lighten in the east when I slipped back into the castle.

  
  


A long walk under the stars had done little to soothe my soul, however. I had begun to sing, almost against my will, until every drop of rage and grief had been torn away, leaving me exhausted and in despair. My kindred, my brothers and sisters, now a ruined mockery of a noble, full-blooded people... 

  
  


Enough. If I thought upon it anymore, I would scream, and this time, I might not be able to stop.

  
  


The castle was eerily silent, as though everything and everyone had settled in for a few more hours of sleep before the sun rose. But far away, muffled by thick stone walls, I was certain I heard someone weeping.

  
  


I slipped out of my dream-like trance. Somehow, my feet carried me back to the portrait I'd passed earlier during the day, accompanied by Albus and Minerva. Had it only been a few hours ago? It felt like a lifetime, and when you're immortal, that's saying something.

  
  


It was a painting of a woman, tall, beautiful, and poised despite her old age. Snowy hair streamed down her back, contrasting sharply with the deep violet of her robes. Dark eyes seemed to watch me, glowing with intelligence and curiosity. Around her neck, she wore a heavy golden chain, upon which hung a pendant of a great bird, wings spread wide. Suddenly, the old woman blinked once, twice, cleared her throat, then aimed a level gaze at me. Beneath her slippered feet, a nameplate winked in the moonlight. Rowena Ravenclaw.

  
  


"Well," she spoke, a voice that was distant and careworn, though her lips curved into a smile. "Your kind is back? I'm glad, I truly am."

  
  


It seemed rather ludicrous to stand and converse with a painting, but I stayed all the same. "What do you know of me?" I asked, perhaps more sharply than I'd intended. "More than I know at the moment, apparently. This world is cursed, and I no longer know who I am!"

  
  


"My dear boy," she scoffed, "I lived one thousand years ago, and your kind was cursed then, too."

  
  


"My kind..." I said softly, letting the quiet castle swallow my voice. "You mean the Elves."

  
  


"Yes, yes, exactly!" The old woman levelled me with another stare, then fluttered a hand about her face. "But dear me, I'm forgetting my manners! My name is Rowena Ravenclaw. I was one of the founders of this school. And you are?"

  
  


"Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. And you obviously know I'm an Elf, although I don't know how. Do you intend to enlighten me?"

  
  


"Of course, my dear!" She smiled at me, and I had a sudden fleeting memory of my mother, laughing at me as we danced in a sunlit meadow. Then she continued.

  
  


"I spent my life researching Elves, turning up lord knows how much drivel and myth, until I finally hit upon some fundamental truths." She smiled at me. "That's the amazing thing about life. Sometimes, the answers for which you're searching are actually bringing you your evening tea!" She sobered almost immediately, however, when she saw the horror on my face. Rowena sighed, as though she knew I didn't want to hear what she was going to say. "You saw the creatures in the shadows...these are the house-elves. This is the remnant of your people."

  
  


I had already known this in my heart, but the confirmation hit me like a punch in the stomach. I sank to my heels, rubbing my temples. Ai, my people, my poor lost, damned people...

  
  


"Tell me everything." I whispered. This was like a knife in my heart, but I had to know what had happened to the Elves of this world.

  
  


Rowena's painted face grew thoughtful. "I don't know everything, Legolas. House-elves existed in my time and had existed long before. But writings had been preserved by my family through the ages, and by others wizards, too. They spoke of an ancient immortal race of Elves, beings of light and beauty who graced the Earth with a magic that is now lost. This, I presume, was your race."

  
  


"What happened to them?"

  
  


Rowena's brow furrowed. "Any trustworthy sources I ever found were sketchy at best, but there were indications that the beings now known as house-elves were exiles of some sort. They were a cursed people, and their origins were most definitely *not* earthly. House-elves were a much debated topic in my day." She scowled. "Now, they are little better than slaves, their magic twisted and controlled to serve their masters. And worst of all-" she shook her head in disgust, "-they enjoy it. They live to serve others."

  
  


"This society is based on slave labour?" I whispered, barely able to keep my voice steady. My people, a horrifying shadow of who they once were, and slaves as well? What other secrets was this awful world hiding? I tried to fight down my anger. It wasn't my place to judge these people, or their society, but this was appalling. 

"It's a disgusting system." Rowena continued, looking as though she'd much rather discuss something else. "It was in my time, and it still is now. People who call themselves enlightened, who refuse to see a problem growing under their very noses. A slave who works with a smile on his face is still a slave regardless." 

  
  


I was disgusted with this topic, and I could see Rowena felt the same way. I decided to probe another area. "Did these house-elves come from my world?" I asked somewhat wistfully. "If they came from Middle-Earth, perhaps there is some way for me to return." Memories of home flooded my mind, flashes of disconnected images. Mirkwood had been in the midst of a glorious high summer when I had left, a bright, beautiful season. Would I ever see it again?

  
  


"I don't know if they hailed from your world, Legolas. But if you recognized them as Elves, then you are most likely connected in some way. I'm afraid that I don't know what else to tell you."

  
  


"Thank you, Lady Rowena. You don't know what this means to me, finding someone who understands." I turned away, my mind whirling with everything the old woman had told me. Dawn was near, and I had a lot to think about.

  
  


"Legolas?"

  
  


I turned around. Rowena Ravenclaw was grinning at me. "If I hadn't been dead for a thousand years, and was just a spirit in a painting, I would give your braids a good yank. Or I would kiss you. You're even cuter than Godric was."

  
  


I smiled, my first real smile in days. "Good night, my lady."

  
  


"Peaceful dreams, sweet prince."

  
  


**********

  
  


My dreams were not sweet that night, however, nor peaceful. I wandered the halls in a sleeping-trance until dawn, taking little notice of the ghosts, spirits, or other denizens of the castle who pointed and whispered as I passed. 

  
  


My people, slaves, their light extinguished, a world dark and cold.

  
  


Oh no. My eyes widened as I began to recognize the warning signs, outward manifestations of a problem that had been growing ever since I'd arrived in this strange place. I snapped out of my dream-filled haze, slowly running a hand along my face, wishing that it wasn't so, but knowing in my heart that it was...

  
  


I was beginning to pine.

  
  


Elves who pine are overwhelmed by their sorrows, and they fade away to nothing. This is the dark, insidious poison that destroys our souls the way disease will rot away at a man's; it will kill us just as surely, and as painfully.

  
  


I had to return to my own world, to my own kind.

  
  


Or else I was going to die.

  
  


**********

  
  


The sun was just peeking above the horizon, and Dobby the House-Elf was in a wonderful mood.

  
  


The other house-elves had chased him out of the kitchen, squealing at him that they had to make breakfast, and they couldn't do it with him nattering on with his foolishness about freedom, now could they?

  
  


So Dobby had skipped out, intent on polishing the bannister of the main stairs before any of the students were up and about. Straightening his tea-cozy hat, he scampered down the corridor, whistling cheerily as he went. It was a beautiful autumn morning, and Dobby the house-elf was happy to be alive.

  
  


Dobby's good mood lasted until he reached the doors to the Great Hall. For some strange reason, he paused and stared at his hands, his cheery demeanor broken by puzzlement. 

  
  


How odd. Had his fingers always been so long?

  
  
  
  


To be continued...when you throw an inept Minister of Magic, a rampaging Acromantula, and a few very confused house-elves into the mix, what do you get? Anarchy, my friends, anarchy... mwahahaha...tune in next week for the exciting adventures of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court!

  
  



	10. A Minister, an Acromantula, and a Very S...

A Note From Sun Queen: Hey people! Man, this story's certainly evolved from my original plan...this was supposed to be a break from some other fics I was working on, but it really took on a life of its own! I wrote the first two chapters of this, then I had planned to leave it, because I'd set the scene, but I had no clue what to do next. However, I got such an overwhelming response that everything else went on hold as I worked a plot for this story. This is the reason there are some gaps in the plot at the beginning. For example, I have absolutely *no* idea as to HOW Legolas got to the HP world, so if anybody has a good theory, let me know. I'm desperately trying to avoid the "an interdimensional vacuum-cleaner sucked up our hero and deposited him in the world of the author's choice," plot, so I need another idea.

  
  


Also, this fic has turned into a rant for the thing that pissed me off the most in Harry Potter, the slavery of the house-elves. Let's just say if I were at Hogwarts, I'd be in SPEW with Hermione...

  
  


This chapter starts out from Dobby's POV, then switches back to Legolas, then goes to Dumbledore, the back to Legolas- oh hell, just read it. You're smart people. You can figure this out. Also, the Acromantula are the giant spiders that live in the Forbidden Forest, first seen in HP and Chamber of Secrets. All information on these creatures is accurate, straight out of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Cute little book. 

  
  


And to all the people who write sweet, yet vaguely threatening reviews, I swear I am working on this as much and as fast as I can. Please don't forget I am a panicky high school student and a lazy little schmuck besides. Apparently, it's only 'six weeks until exams and we don't have time to stop for anything!' So the inconsiderate teachers pile on the assignments, quizzes, and tests. Bleeeeeaaaahh. Well, since none of you are qualified therapists, you don't get paid to listen to me whine. Just read the chapter.

  
  


And for the people who were wondering, I think this chapter probably hit the PG-13 rating. Ewww, spider guts...if you have an obsessive love for our eight-legged friends, spare yourself the grief and skip this chapter. 

  
  
  
  


Chapter 8: A Minister, an Acromantula, and One Scared House-Elf 

  
  


Dobby's day had become more and more confusing as the sun rose higher in the sky.

  
  


After spending several long minutes staring at his hands by the Great Hall, he had snapped out of his reverie, in a double hurry now to finish his chores before the students came downstairs for breakfast.

  
  


But even running had become different. The world seemed to swim and shift, making him dizzy. Dobby's stride became uneven, and he wobbled back and forth, desperate to keep his balance. He wanted to stop, to catch his breath, but some house-elf instinct screamed to hurry up and get out of sight before people arrived on the scene.

  
  


*Smash*. 

  
  


It felt like someone had knocked his feet out from underneath him, dumping him headlong into a suit of armour. Dobby shook his ringing head, watching helplessly as disjointed metal limbs clattered down around him. The visored helmet rolled away some distance down the hall, and the rest of the suit collapsed like a decapitated body. An annoyed little voice emanated from the rolling helm: "Oy, mate, that was totally unnecessary!"

  
  


Dobby heaved himself to his feet with a sigh. Yet another mess he'd have to clean up...

  
  


*Why?*

  
  


Surprised, Dobby looked around. There was no one there.

  
  


*Why should you have to clean it up?*

  
  


Oddly enough, Dobby had never stopped to consider the services he provided. It made him pause now, to wonder, why he *should* clean up this suit of armour...

  
  


He never had a chance to finish the thought when a burning began behind his eyes, travelling through him until his entire body was wracked with painful spasms. This was worse than shutting his ears in the oven door and ironing his fingers, a hundred times worse!

  
  


Oh no. Through the haze of pain, Dobby could hear dozens of tramping feet, students on their way downstairs for breakfast. He stumbled away from the ruined suit of armour, gasping, ducking into the first empty room he found, one of the empty visitors' chambers. He collapsed under the window, choking, as the burning, prickling sensation gripped him once more.

  
  


The heavy oak door swung shut, muffling his gasping sobs.

  
  


And out in the now-deserted corridor, the helmet continued to call out. "Oy, a little help here, please..."

  
  


**********

  
  


The rising sun had banished some of the dark grief from my heart, but I knew that it was only temporary. Come nightfall, the shadows would creep back in to choke my soul. I had to talk to Dumbledore, and soon.

  
  


Unfortunately, this was a massive school, and I had no idea where he might be. There didn't seem to be any students about; they must all be down at breakfast. How was I going to find Albus?

  
  


My ears pricked as I heard a soft rush of wings behind me. I smiled as I turned my face slightly; it was Albus' magnificent red and gold bird. Out hunting, perhaps? He eyed me beadily and settled on my shoulder, then chirped a sweet, quavering note.

  
  


"Good morning, my fine friend." I smiled at the beautiful creature who'd taken up residence beside my head. "I don't suppose you know where Professor Dumbledore is, do you?"

  
  


To my surprise, the bird immediately leapt off my shoulder. Beating his powerful wings, he hovered in the air, calling in his musical voice, clearly meaning for me to follow him. I shrugged, then ran lightly after the feathered creature. He had a better chance of finding his master in this old castle than I did. As I turned the corner, I saw the bird vanish through an open window, obviously not realizing that I couldn't fly out after him. Unlike Mithrandir, I didn't have an eagle at my beck and call.

  
  


Hopping onto the sill, I gauged the distance to the ground. No worse than jumping off a cave troll, so I leapt gracefully to the grass below, landing in a crouch. Not bad, Legolas, not bad at all...

  
  


The bird was still fluttering some distance away, so I ran to catch up. He seemed to be leading me towards the edge of the forest, where I could see a large cluster of figures...and something dark and massive...

  
  


**********

  
  


Albus Dumbledore was normally a tolerant, patient man. Those who knew him would freely admit that he refused to judge people, or assign blame. However, even *he* could not believe the sheer stupidity of Cornelius Fudge's latest plan.

  
  


The portly Minister of Magic stood beside him on the school lawn, a short distance away from the borders of the Forbidden Forest, clutching his lime-green bowler hat under one arm, and waving away Albus' commentary with the other.

  
  


"Why wasn't I informed of this plan, Minister?" asked Dumbledore in his lowest, most dangerous voice. Anybody with an ounce of sense would be backing away, but Fudge merely smiled in his smug, condescending manner.

  
  


"Come now, Albus, this was considered a 'need-to-know' mission, and you didn't need to know." Fudge smiled again, his demeanor similar to a father whose child had just done something clever. "Besides, the mission was a success! We captured a *live* specimen!" The garishly dressed wizard's gaze turned inward, as though he could already see throngs of cheering supporters. "Just imagine, Albus! We can put these creatures into service against You-Know-Who! This could turn the tide of the war!"

  
  


"An Acromantula..." Dumbledore let his gaze travel towards the massive black spider standing stiff-legged a dozen yards away. The huge creature was bigger than a Clydesdale horse, its fat body and eight spindly legs covered in wiry black hair. A pair of glossy sharp pincers hung from its face, each longer than a man's arm. Eight dark eyes were cloudy from the barrage of spells that had taken it unawares.

  
  


Ministry wizards were milling around the insensate creature, studying its long legs, the hairy, low slung body. They seemed as satisfied as Cornelius Fudge, likely already planning their best-selling books: "Capturing the Acromantula: How a Brave Group of Wizards Defeated You-Know-Who and Single-Handedly Won the War!"

  
  


Dumbledore, however, was too smart to step nearer to the giant beast. "Minister, with all respect, how can you expect to control this creature? We know so little about them, but what information we do have suggests they are extremely intelligent, and totally untrainable."

  
  


"Well, that's just the point, man! We won't know until we try, will we?" Fudge looked irritated, as though he'd expected Dumbledore to be first in line to congratulate him, on what he considered an incredible achievement.

  
  


"Minister," Dumbledore began again, "I highly recommend against this course of action. This is a dangerous creature with which to experiment, and I do not believe it would be prudent to commit our resources-"

  
  


"Dammit, man!" yelled Fudge, his patience clearly at an end. "Would you sit there in that mouldy old castle while He Who Must Not Be Named overruns the whole bloody world?"

  
  


"We both have our own ways of dealing with the threat posed by Voldemort," Dumbledore said quietly, watching the man flinch as he spoke the enemy's name. "However, I cannot support you in this venture." 

  
  


"Now you listen here, Dumbledore-"

  
  


Then the screaming started.

  
  


**********

  
  


From over a hundred strides away, I heard the screams.

  
  


I realized, to my horror, that the huge black creature, a spider, no less, which up until this point had been rather stiff, had sprung to life. I broke into a run, sprinting with all my strength towards the besieged humans.

  
  


Long hairy legs swept out left and right, knocking over the humans who tried to subdue it. I saw several raise their wands and shriek spells, but if magic had controlled the creature before, now the incantations just made it angrier.

  
  


The giant spider reared onto its hind legs, let out a roaring screech, and charged. I saw several humans go down under the trampling legs, their screams mingling with the shouted spells and the creature's roars.

  
  


I saw one brightly-dressed human racing away towards the shelter of the trees, surrounded by several other men. One figure, however, stood his ground. My heart leapt to my throat as I recognized the silver beard. *Albus*!

  
  


He yelled what seemed like a dozen spells in one breath, causing the creature to stagger. But it somehow managed to dodge the killing blow, and then the monster was upon him.

  
  


It seemed as though time slowed; I was unable to move, unable to scream as one huge foreleg swept out, sending Albus flying, only to smash into a tree. He slid to the ground, so limp and still that I feared he was dead.

  
  


Albus was down, and no other man was in any position to oppose this beast.

  
  


Suddenly, all my rage, my pain, my fear and my grief crystallized into a burning bloodlust. My lips snapped apart in a feral snarl as I tore my knives from my boots. Let this creature come. Let this monster of darkness fall upon me; I would revenge Albus and let the blood of my foe stain the grass red.

  
  


I opened my mouth and an Elven battle-scream tore loose, as I brought my knives up into a combat position. The monstrous spider, which had been lumbering back towards the Forest, swung around to face its challenger.

  
  


I felt waves of malevolence buffet me as eight obsidian eyes met mine; my regard for my enemy flew up the scale. This was no brainless cave-troll. This creature was smart.

  
  


"Little worm." it hissed, clicking its sharp pincers together menacingly. "Run away, before I crush your bones and bleed you dry."

  
  


In response, I threw one of my knives.

  
  


The creature tried to dodge, but my aim was true, and the long dagger embedded itself in one glossy black eye, splattering gore over the remaining seven. A roaring shriek, and now I had one hell of a pissed-off spider bearing down on me.

  
  


Most excellent. I turned tail and fled, the spider following like a hound on a leash, leaving a spattered trail of gore in its wake. Unfortunately, while I'd jabbed one knife into my belt, the other was still lodged in the creature's eye. My bow was somewhere back in the castle, and I realized I was seriously underarmed. After my initial fit of bloodlust, rationality was beginning to seep back into my brain. So, still running, I began to hatch a desperate plan.

  
  


I was passing an large oak. In a heartbeat, I'd pounced on the trunk, and had scrabbled up into the foliage. Over the pounding of my heart, I could here the creature clicking about beneath me.

  
  


A cold, hissing voice floated up to me. "Out of the tree, little squirrel. I haven't paid you back for my eye!" I shot back along a branch as a hairy leg speared the space I'd occupied a heartbeat before. Then another stabbed through the leaves, tearing a deep cut into the arm of my tunic.

  
  


I grimaced as I felt warm blood soaking my sleeve. The tree shook as the spider jabbed again and again with its front legs. I followed my ears, letting the clicking pincers tell me where the spider was. It was moving back and forth, trying to determine my location as well. I braced myself as another thrashing leg took a chunk out of my shoulder. Mumbling a quick prayer to the Valar, I leapt from the tree.

  
  


I landed feet-first on the spider's broad back. It screeched, swinging back and forth, trying to dislodge me, but I dug my knife into the wiry black hair and hung on tight.

  
  


The spider bucked and thrashed, but I managed to grab my second dagger from the ruins of an eye before I was thrown. I tumbled to the ground, clutching my two blades, rolled to my feet, and began to run again.

  
  


"Come on, follow me. Come on, nasty attercop. Follow me!" I whispered, terrified that the cunning creature would realize where I meant to lead it. But the massive spider was blinded by blood and rage, and seemed content to chase me wherever I went.

  
  


Over the low hill, past the lake shore, and my destination was in sight. I yelled, though I'm unsure whether it was aloud or in my mind. 

  
  


*Help me!*

  
  


I managed to duck and roll clear just as the Whomping Willow sprang to life, powerful arms whipping into the spider that pursued me. Even so, I felt more than one branch graze my back deep enough to draw blood, and one nearly took my head off as I dodged.

  
  


The spider wasn't so lucky; it had charged full speed into the lethal tree's limbs. A roar of pain mingled with the snapping of wood, rising quickly to a high-pitched scream. The dazed creature lurched and kicked itself free of the whipping branches, blood splashing from welts and jagged tears on its body and legs. Pain-clouded eyes saw me once more, and the creature screamed and charged. I felt the first stirring of real panic. The Willow's assault had weakened the spider, but by how much?

  
  


I stood my ground until the creature was almost upon me. Then, just as it seemed as if I would be trampled under eight pounding legs, I dove towards its underbelly, yanking out my knives and latching onto the wiry hair like a leech, hoping to get a stab at its heart.

  
  


Big mistake.

  
  


The spider screeched to a halt, and I realized, to my horror, that I'd played right into its hands, or rather, legs. For the eight hairy legs around me folded and buckled, and a very heavy black body crashed down on top of me.

  
  


My blades were all that saved me from being crushed to death that second. Somehow, I'd managed to whip them both up and jab them into the monstrous stomach that was blocking the sky, an instant before it flattened me into the ground. 

  
  


A gush of hot, foul blood soaked me as the spider stiffened with a roar, giving me just enough space to wiggle out. Then, before the legs could knock me over and trample me, I clawed my way up onto the bloody, slippery back.

  
  


Stabbing and slashing with all my strength, I somehow managed to cling to the slick hair. The monster's inarticulate screams and desperate thrashing told me I was doing a good deal of damage, but I couldn't hold on for much longer...

  
  


The spider finally managed to throw me, and I hit the ground on my back, hard enough to knock all the air out of my lungs, and, judging by my burning chest, to break a rib or two as well. I tried to get up, tried to get my legs underneath me, but my fight was over.

  
  


A horrifying black shadow eclipsed the sun, and I made out smoldering hatred in the beast's remaining eyes. The pincers clicked and clacked as they slowly drew lower, a hunter savouring the sight of its defeated prey.

  
  


"Goodbye, little worm..." the creature hissed, and the pincers stabbed towards my chest.

  
  


At the same instant, I lunged upward with the last of my strength, driving my blood-soaked blade up under the creature's head, through the soft tissue of its mouth, and into its brain.

  
  


I saw the creature's legs collapsing, its head lolling forwards, dripping bright blood as it tumbled oh-so-slowly towards the ground, landing in a prickly black heap a mere stride away from my head. It was dead.

  
  


Everything seemed so hazy all of a sudden, and I turned my dream-like attention to the twin pincer wounds in my shoulder, each one dribbling black poison, a burning pain that travelled through my blood, to my heart and to my brain. Blood flowed from dozens of cuts and welts on my arms, back, and shoulders, leeching my strength into a warm puddle beneath me.

  
  


A gentle whoosh of wings, and Dumbledore's beautiful bird landed beside me, weeping warm tears. I felt them running down my face, and I grieved to think of the wonderful creature crying for me. 

  
  


I had a vague awareness of figures surrounding me, of hands reaching out to grasp me. Someone touched my cheek, and I opened bleary eyes to see Minerva McGonagall staring at me, her face chalky white, and her hands trembling with fear or rage. Maybe both.

  
  


"Why?" she asked, her voice shaking. I wondered if Albus was dead.

  
  


I wasn't sure what she meant, so I tried to shrug. I only managed to make myself choke as bright blood welled up in my mouth. Staring her straight in the eye, I managed to rasp out my last words.

  
  


"I don't...like...spiders."

  
  


And the world dissolved into a twilight haze of pain.

  
  
  
  


To be continued...Well, we can't kill the main character, so it's obviously not the end, is it? While Legolas was out venting some rage with the Acromantula, what happened to Dobby? He was there at the beginning, remember? And now we have Fudge blustering in...things look pretty grim for our hero, folks...tune in next week for another exciting installment of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Sunlight, Blades, and Blood

A Note From Sun Queen: Hey people! Look! Look! I've finally managed to introduce some other characters, none other than Harry Potter and the unforgettable Gryffindor boys! Yay! *Sun Queen throws confetti as brass band and Boy Scouts begin to march down main street of hole-in-wall town where the illustrious author-chick dwells.*

  
  


Also, to clear up confusion, Acromantula are the big spiders that Harry and Ron encountered in the Forbidden Forest in the second book. Aragog was an Acromantula, although not the one Legolas fought.

  
  


In answer to one review, I know this is more movie-verse Legolas than book-verse. Although book Legolas is beyond cool, movie-verse Legolas is easier to use in this story because he presents the same mental picture to all the readers. Everyone can visualize him: the way he moves, the way he talks, his clothes, his hair...besides, the talented Mr. Bloom is quite snog-worthy. Can anyone blame me for describing him? :) But seriously, braids are simply quite practical, and fighting with two knives makes you more dangerous than with just one blade.

  
  


And, on a totally off-topic note, I saw the year's first icebergs in the bay! They were just little growlers (Newfoundland slang term for a small berg, less that 100 feet long,) but I didn't see any bergs last year *or* the year before, so even bergy-bits are cool...they say this is gonna be a great season for icebergs, which makes me happy. They go drifting past the headlands, sculpted blocks of pure white ice, reflecting the blue or green or grey of the water and the sky. Someone once told me they were the ghosts of lost cathedrals. Legolas would like them, too, seeing as how the sea calls to him!

  
  


Chapter Nine: Sunlight, Blades, and Blood. 

  
  


Sunlight streamed through the open window, settling lazily over the Boy Who Lived, waking him from warm dreams of phoenixes, Quidditch, and his mother's green eyes. Harry Potter opened his eyes, his jaw cracking as he yawned hugely. The bed creaked beneath him as he fumbled sleepily for his glasses, brushing a lock of hair out of his face by habit. One bed over, Ron Weasley shifted and muttered in his sleep, tugging his sheets up to the roots of his carroty hair.

  
  


Harry was pulling his school robes over his head when Seamus Finnigan, a fellow Gryffindor fifth-year lurched past, heading for the bathroom. "Mornin'," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, but paused as he passed the open window.

  
  


"Hey Harry, have a look at this..." Two heads, one dark, one sandy blond, leaned out the window, staring in puzzlement at a distant group of wizards, clustered around some large black shape, near the edge of the Forbidden forest. "Whadda' ya think they're doin'?"

  
  


"I dunno. They're too far away to see...I don't think they're teachers, though. It's pretty early for visitors...wonder what's going on?"

  
  


Behind Harry, Ron had abandoned his warm bed and comfortable dreams for a perch at the window. He, too, was staring in puzzlement at the distant flock of figures.

  
  


"Hey Harry, Ron-" now Dean Thomas had joined the conversation, "-don't you two have Omnioculars? Get 'em out so we can have a look. I wanna know what's going on..."

  
  


"Sure." Harry turned and began to rummage through his school trunk for the fancy wizard's binoculars he'd bought at last year's Quidditch World Cup. Beside him, Ron emerged from under his rumpled bed, with dust in his hair and on his pajamas, but clutching his Omnioculars triumphantly.

  
  


"Right, then. Let's have a look." Harry butted over to the window, whipped his glasses off his nose, and held up his Omnioculars. He spun the dial, focussing the glass lenses on the edge of the Forest.

  
  


"Holy shit..." Dean swore reverently, having accepted Ron's Omnioculars and pressing them to his own eyes. Ron's jaw had dropped, and he'd stepped back from the window, one hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick.

  
  


Harry knew how his friend felt. In the midst of the milling wizards stood a massive, motionless Acromantula; a hairy, horse-sized spider of the type he and Ron had encountered in the Forbidden Forest during their second year. They'd barely escaped from *that* little misadventure with their lives.

  
  


Seamus was tugging at the sleeve of his robes, demanding to know what was going on. Harry began to elaborate on Dean's two-word commentary. "Professor Dumbledore is down there. He's talking to...god, it's Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. There's a pile of Ministry wizards...I think they captured an Acromantula out of the forest...it's a dirty great spider, we studied them in Care of Magical Creatures, remember?"

  
  


"Wonder what they want with one of those things? They're supposed to be really dangerous..." mused Dean, the borrowed Omnioculars still jammed to his face. "Hang on-Jesus!"

  
  


Dean's voice had risen to a yelp, and Harry bit back a yell; the huge spider had started moving, and it wasn't slowing down. He zoomed the focus up to maximum, and could make out the panic on the Ministry wizards' faces as the great beast charged towards them. Even from his perch in the castle, he could hear the distant yelling. Spells were being thrown about, and above the muted racket, he could make out the spider's screeching roar.

  
  


"Oh no..." Harry's mouth went dry as he swung the focus over to Albus Dumbledore, grim and composed, large as life, as if he were standing four feet away, rather than a good five hundred yards. The spider was bearing down on him, eight long legs working madly as it charged. He could see Dumbledore's lips working furiously as he threw a dozen spells at the crazed creature, but it barely slowed. Harry choked back a cry as one long leg shot out and sent the Headmaster flying.

  
  


Harry was vaguely aware of Ron yelling, Dean swearing, and of Seamus yanking madly at his sleeve, desperate to know what was going on. All he could see was his old mentor hitting a tree and sliding limply to the ground, a bright line of blood on the trunk behind him. The spider, pincers clicking, turned and lumbered in Dumbledore's direction. "Oh, god, oh no, oh no..." Harry whispered, unable to help himself. Dean could only stare in speechless horror.

  
  


Then an angel stepped up to the plate.

  
  


Harry was never certain afterwards, even with the entire situation recorded by the Omnioculars, where exactly Legolas had come from. All he realized was that somehow the young, blond hippy-haired bloke from dinner had suddenly materialized on the scene, snarling like a Rottweiler, two wicked-looking knives raised in combat position. 

  
  


Harry mentally debated whether or not he could get down to the Forest in time to help Dumbledore, but he found he couldn't tear his gaze away from the fight. In a blur of motion, (which Harry replayed in slow motion several times, later that day), the blond man threw one of his knives, lodging it in one of the spider's bulbous eyes. He saw the creature rear and shriek, then charge after Legolas.

  
  


"Sweet Christ, he'd better run..." Dean was frantically clinging to the Omnioculars that Ron and Seamus were trying to wrestle away from him. "Stop it! Give 'em back!"

  
  


Ron emerged victorious, panting from the scuffle, and jammed the brass binoculars to his face. His head swivelled as he tracked the running man and the charging spider across the lawn below them. "What the hell's he doing?"

  
  


Harry watched in horrified fascination as Legolas shot up one of the old oak trees like a squirrel. The spider, a blade still lodged deep in its eye, began to thrash through the leaves with its forelegs, trying to knock Dumbledore's friend out of the tree. Just when Harry was certain the trapped man couldn't hold out much longer, he dropped suddenly out of the foliage. Right onto the spider's back.

  
  


"Oh man..." breathed Ron, his gaze transfixed on the battle, watching as the blond man ripped his knife free, and leapt off the monster's back, a blur of gold and green, the sun glinting off his hair and bloodstained blades.

  
  


"What the *hell* is he doing?" Ron asked again, spinning the magnifying dial for better focus. Indeed, the blond man was running with renewed purpose and direction, barely ten feet ahead of the enraged creature. "Where's he leading it?"

  
  


Up the hill, past the lake, and suddenly, realization dawned on Harry. "The Whomping Willow!"

  
  


The agonized screams of a spider who is having the ever-loving crap beat out of it floated over the air.

  
  


The rest of the fight happened almost to quickly to follow. One moment, Legolas was *under* the spider, the next he was atop it, blades flying, blond hair whipping madly, blood flashing crimson in the air, the great black spider heaving and roaring. One last, desperate thrash, and the young man was airborne, hitting the ground some distance away with a bone-jarring impact. Beside him, Harry saw Seamus wince. "Ouch."

  
  


Dean had recaptured Ron's Omnioculars, and had pressed them to his eyes with renewed determination. "No." he said adamantly. "He's gonna get up. He's not finished yet. He's gonna get up!"

  
  


But the blond man didn't stir. He lay on his back, stunned, as the bleeding creature lurched over to him, pincers clicking and dripping foul black poison.

  
  


"God, where are the other Ministry wizards?" Ron croaked, his freckles standing out against his pale face. "That thing's gonna kill him!"

  
  


The spider leaned in for the kill; the battered man lay limp, his golden hair spread out under his head like a flattened halo. Seamus groaned, a low, grieving tone, and lowered his eyes.

  
  


A brilliant flash of sunlight on metal, and the blond man was sinking to the ground once more, one of his blades buried in the spider's head. The enormous creature teetered on its eight hairy legs, then crashed to the ground, a pool of purplish-red blood oozing out from beneath the black, bulky body.

  
  


"Is it..." Dean's voice trailed off, his pair of Omnioculars still trained on the scene below.

  
  


"I think it's dead." Harry answered tightly, as sudden crowds of faculty and ministry wizards converged on the battered blond figure. There was blood all over the grass, and Harry would bet his Firebolt that it didn't all belong to the dead Acromantula.

  
  


Harry saw Professor McGonagall levitate the unconscious man, and turn to hurry towards the school, her face white, her hands trembling. She was followed by a very familiar phoenix, who was still hovering, dripping tears over the blond man's face.

  
  


"Fawkes?" whispered Harry, watching as the entourage vanished into the castle's shadow. *Dumbledore*, he thought, his throat tight. Then, he dropped the Omnioculars into the pocket of his school robes, and ran for the door. The other Gryffindor boys were close on his heels.

  
  


**********

  
  


The tower room was still dark and empty some time later, the rumpled beds cold, one pair of Omnioculars lying abandoned on the floor. They were still whirring quietly, recording a continuous image of the stone floor.

  
  


The oak door squeaked on its hinges, and a pair of feet in wildly mismatched socks crept soundlessly into the Omnioculars' recording. An unfamiliar alto voice, quavering and melodious, was heard to whisper. "Harry Potter, sir? Harry Potter?"

  
  


A brief pause, a muffled sob, and the mismatched socks fled from view.

  
  


The Omnioculars' whirring died as the scene faded to black.

  
  
  
  


To be continued...as Fudge recovers from his *shock*, a storm gathers in the mind of an Elf. Is Legolas strong enough to fight off the poison in his blood and soul? What's wrong with Dobby? Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of a Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court! 


	12. The Mirror of Galadriel

A Note From Sun Queen: Lookie! Lookie! Two chapters at once! Don't EVER look for this again, because I seriously think I hurt myself...I posted them together because Ivy the beta-reader figured people would be pissed at me for not advancing the plot last chapter (she complains a lot). I really shouldn't have done it, it messes with the pace of the story. Chalk it up to Lazy Author Syndrome. 

  
  


Anyways, if this chapter doesn't spell it out for you, I am a rabid Galadriel fan. A cool, beautiful, ancient Elven-Queen who is scary, smart, icy, and compassionate, all at once. "All will love me and despair..." That line (book *and* movie) gave me the shivers. I thought Cate Blanchett was amazing, that she portrayed the character really well.

  
  
  
  


Chapter Ten: The Mirror of Galadriel 

  
  


Drifting through blissful darkness, I felt a gentle, yet insistent tugging. Following the dancing thread towards consciousness, I slowly opened my eyes.

  
  


The throbbing pain was gone, and the deep wounds on my chest had vanished. I was standing in a clearing, surrounded by silvery, enchanted trees. They towered over me, silky grey trunks reaching skywards, faded golden leaves spiralling slowly and lazily in the dying light. My eyes widened as recognition hit me. This was *Lothlorien*!

  
  


But my elation faded as I realized the truth. The world was hazy around the edges, highlighting the almost-painful clarity of the tree trunks, the falling leaves, the whisper of the wind...this was illusion, a dream conjured by my pain-clouded mind. I wasn't in the Golden Wood, among my Sylvan kin.

  
  


None of this was real.

  
  


Still, if it was a dream, I was not eager to wake. I strolled slowly through the trees, watching the play of sunbeams over the floating leaves, letting the breeze rustle my hair. Idly, I hummed the lament that the 'Lorien elves had sung for Mithrandir on my last visit to this enchanted wood, half-expecting Haldir and the Galadhrim to challenge me from the trees.

  
  


No one did.

  
  


Then, some distance ahead of me, I saw a glimmering figure. The space between us closed, and the figure resolved itself into the pale beauty of Lady Galadriel, her lithe body draped in a shimmering white gown, her hair hanging loose over her back like a waterfall of clear gold. She seemed to stare at me, her smooth brow furrowed, her lips pursed in a thoughtful frown.

  
  


I knelt, lowering my eyes to the ground as I kissed her hand. Her knuckles were cool as ice beneath my lips. "My lady." I breathed, basking in the radiance of her presence.

  
  


Galadriel, or the dream image that bore her likeness, inclined her head as I rose to my feet. She touched my cheek with one slim hand, then softly caressed a strand of my hair. "Little prince of the wood," she spoke gently, her face softening with compassion. "Why are you here?"

  
  


"I do not know." I whispered, misery clenching my heart. "I think I'm lost."

  
  


Suddenly, the trees around us shifted and blurred, and then we were standing in the natural grotto where Galadriel kept her Mirror, a round, shallow silver dish that stood on a wide stone pedestal. A clear spring splashed over the rocks, gurgling into a deep pool near our feet. Spray lashed the skirt of the ancient elf's gown, but she paid it no mind.

  
  


She touched the carved stone of the pedestal, her gaze lingering on the silver reflecting surface before she looked deep into my eyes. "All that happens in our lives occurs for a reason, Legolas." she pronounced, circling around to stand across from me. "You have a destiny as unchangeable as the sunrise. Will you look into the Mirror?"

  
  


"Yes." The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I felt an irresistible pull, drawing me towards the pedestal. The dying sunlight rippled over the water's surface, and I stared deep into the Mirror.

  
  


For a moment, I saw nothing but my own reflection, peering back like a wraith from the shadows. Then, images and memories began to swirl and dance, drawing me deeper still.

  
  


A dizzying tumble of light and sound, flashes of people, places, and events. I felt like a bird, flying weightless and free through my own mind, as I saw Albus, Helm's Deep in the sunset, Rowena, the Hogwarts Castle, Pippin grinning in his cheeky little hobbit way, the thrashing tentacles of the giant squid in the darkness. I saw my friend Gimli, a frustrated snarl on his dwarven face, the light glittering in the giant spider's eyes as his fangs sank into my chest, and the familiar figure of Elessar, pacing the walls of his beloved city. I saw his eyes widen as he turned towards me. Then, there was a deafening roar in my ears, and I tumbled into darkness.

  
  


I landed hard on the rough grass of a clifftop, studded with chips of sharp rock. I scrambled to my feet, and felt my jaw drop. 

  
  


The Sea.

  
  


An endless expanse of dark grey water, stretching out below me under a glowing, cloudy sky. I heard it roar as it crashed against the rocky cliff, and smelled the sharp, acrid tang of salty air.

  
  


I felt an explosion of longing in my heart, a desperate desire that I'd repressed for so long. A ragged moan tore itself from my throat, and a single tear ran unheeded down my face as I beheld the majesty of my people's final destiny. The Sea, the West, where we will one day find eternal rest and peace, away from the cares and sorrows of Middle Earth.

  
  


I felt a gentle hand touch my shoulder, and I whirled to find another Elf standing beside me, his long, dark hair blowing in the cold breeze. His skin was pale and smooth, and his was the lean, muscled body of warrior. His vivid, jewel-green eyes fixed themselves on mine. Emotions warred there, doubt, fear, hope, pain...finally, a profound peace seemed to settle over his features. He lifted his hand, his long fingers brushing my cheek. I stared at him, touching his own face, as if to prove to myself he was really there. 

  
  


"Who are you?" I asked, when I could trust my voice.

  
  


He smiled wearily. "I'm your brother."

  
  


Then the world blurred, shifting, and I was hurled away.

*********

  
  


I was back in the grotto, clutching the Mirror's pedestal so hard my fingers had cramped. The feeling of cold, hard stone under my hands almost convinced me this vision was real. *Almost*.

  
  


Galadriel eyed me, her beautiful features settling once more into a little frown. "You do not understand."

  
  


"No," I rasped, my throat dry and tight. The visions of the Mirror had been a random jumble of memories; the Sea and the unknown Elf had only added to my confusion. Exhausted and heartsick, I managed to raise my eyes to the ancient Queen's ethereal face, trying to quell the hope in my heart. "Lady, do you have the power to bring me home?" 

  
  


Her face dark with sadness, Galadriel shook her head. Then, her long white skirt swishing, she crossed the stone floor of the grotto. Taking my face in her hands, she stared into my eyes, her beautiful features kind and compassionate. "Do not despair, little prince," she whispered, her voice soft in the fading afternoon. "The light of our kind is born in the darkest of places."

"What must I do?" I asked wearily, taking her hands in mine, knowing that all too soon this vision would vanish like mist in a strong wind, and the ancient Elven-Queen would fade along with it. 

  
  


"Namarie," she breathed, laying a gentle kiss on my brow. "You must live." 

  
  


Her lips were warm.

  
  
  
  


To Be Continued...destiny isn't something you want to mess with, but there are always obstacles on the path of life. One of them is fast-acting spider venom. Another is Cornelius Fudge. Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of a Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court!

  
  



	13. Poison

A Note From Sun Queen: Hey everyone! Usual apologies for the lateness of the chapter, but I have excuses besides laziness this time. I literally had *no* time to write, and I'm afraid that life will only get busier, but I'll try to update every week. I hope to have this fic finished by the beginning of summer.

  
  


Lookie! We broke the 200 review mark! Yay! Cinnamon macchiatos and pixie sticks for everyone!

  
  


Okay, your totally unrelated note for this chapter: It's Mother's Day, and I want all of you to get up and give your mums a hug before you read this. Go ahead. The computer will still be here when you get back.

  
  


Oh, and if the thought of blood squicks you, this chapter is not for you. Nothing too awful, but a little warning nonetheless. Poison can be pretty tricky to get out of the bloodstream...

  
  


Chapter Eleven: Poison

  
  


I awoke with a very undignified yelp as a burning spike of pain drove through my midsection. Reality slowly seeped back into my foggy brain; I'd spoken with the Lady Galadriel, looked into her mirror, and I'd seen another Elf standing beside me by the Sea. My *brother*, he'd called me...

  
  


But none of my brothers had brown hair and bright green eyes.

  
  


I was lying on my back on a *very* hard table, staring up at a low stone ceiling, spotted with age and odd stains. From the ache in my shoulders and ass, I'd been there for quite some time. My shirt and tunic were gone, and I felt a cold draft on my bare chest. A fire was burning somewhere to my left, exuding an acrid smell. I could hear a brisk, measured step behind me, accompanied by the swish of long robes. 

  
  


The pain that had awoken me claimed my attention again, and I grimaced, waiting for the spasm in my stomach to settle. My shoulders clenched as a shudder ran through my body. My throat felt parched, and I could feel cold sweat collecting on my forehead and in the hollow of my spine.

  
  


I raised my chin slightly to examine myself, and immediately wished I hadn't. Dark spots danced in my vision as my strength gave out and my head slammed down again hard, almost enough to knock me out. I closed my eyes, willing darkness to come again and take me away from this misery. No such luck.

  
  


"Awake, I see." At this new voice, I opened my eyes. A somewhat familiar man was hovering over me, shaking his head in obvious disapproval, as though my return to consciousness had been deliberately timed to annoy him. I recognized the heavy black hair and the long nose: this was Professor Snape. One of the teachers Dumbledore had introduced to me at dinner last night. Had it only been yesterday? It seemed like a lifetime past, and when you're immortal, that's saying something.

  
  


How long had I been here? Where was Albus? I struggled to sit up, and was rewarded with another searing flash of pain and a decidedly ungentle hand shoving me back down.

  
  


"Please lie still." Professor Snape gritted his teeth, as though he'd rather be anywhere else in the world but here. "Your major wounds are healed, but you have a system full of Acromantula venom. How do you feel?"

  
  


"I feel like a Uruk-Hai has been using my head for clubbing practice." I rasped, as Snape prodded at my throat and chest. "Other than that, simply wonderful. How long have I been here?"

  
  


"You're in one of the dungeons, and you've been unconscious for more than two hours. Lie still!"

  
  


I managed to stop fidgeting as Snape finished his examination of my now-unblemished skin. Shaking his head, he moved around behind me; I rolled my eyes back in my head, wishing that I could sleep, dream of home again...and maybe never wake up. But Snape was speaking again, so I refocused my attention on his voice.

  
  


"...have remarkable regenerative abilities, Master Elf, but you have poison right through your blood. I'm brewing a purification potion, but I have no idea what effect it will have on you." Snape moved back into my line of vision, and I could see that he looked particularly grim. "When you arrived yesterday morning, Madam Pomfrey sent me a sample of your blood to analyse."

  
  


"I remember." I whispered, recalling how the cut's closure had shocked the healer.

  
  


"At any rate, you have a drastically different blood chemistry from any human, so I have serious doubts about the effectiveness of the potion. And I'm afraid that will leave you in rather difficult situation."

  
  


I had to admire the man's bluntness. But he had no idea I had my own tricks for dealing with poison.

  
  


There was a quick rap at the door, and I lifted my head enough to see two faces peek over the threshold. "Professor Snape?" inquired one of the boys, shaking black hair out of his face. His red-haired companion was carrying a package, which he laid carefully on the table.

  
  


"Mister Potter, Mister Weasley. What do you *want*?" Professor Snape ground out, as through he'd just hit the upper levels of his patience. The dark-haired boy took a step forward and cleared his throat. 

  
  


"Madam Pomfrey sent us down with these supplies. She said she didn't know if you had enough crushed bezoar stone or phoenix tears, so she told us to bring these to you."

  
  


Snape accepted the package wordlessly, and turned his attention towards his brewing potion. I turned to the boys and rasped, "How is Albus?"

  
  


Surprised, the redhead turned towards me. "The Headmaster? He's sleeping. Madam Pomfrey says he's going to be fine."

  
  


"What about *you*?" asked the other boy. "We saw them bring you in, you looked pretty beat up. You're the Headmaster's friend, aren't you?"

  
  


"Yeah. My name is Legolas. Who are you?"

  
  


"Oh, my name's Harry. Harry Potter." The black-haired boy introduced himself, and I saw he had a curious jagged scar on his forehead. He gestured to his companion. "This is my friend, Ron Weasley. We saw you kill that spider-"

  
  


"-That was wicked cool!" interjected Ron. 

  
  


"-And we saw them bring you in." Harry shot Ron a glare, then continued. "Madam Pomfrey sent you down with Professor Snape, 'cause she's got a hospital wing full of beat-up Ministry wizards on her hands." 

  
  


"How charming. Listen, can you help me?" I lowered my voice, and Harry and Ron leaned forward to catch what I was saying. "My tunic is over there by the wall. On my belt, there's a little brown leather pouch. Will you bring it to me?"

  
  


"Okay." Ron obediently fetched my belt, and pried the little drawstring bag loose.

  
  


"Now," I said with a conspiratorial wink, "Please attract the attention of your rather short-tempered professor, because I'm quite afraid he'll knock me out if I say another word."

  
  


The two boys shared a grin. "Sure," Harry said agreeably, then: "Excuse me, Professor?"

  
  


Snape whirled and stalked to my side. "What? The potion is at a very critical stage, and if I ignore it, it will be ruined, and I'll have to start all over again. I *pray* this is important." 

  
  


"Of course." I threw a glance towards Ron. "Will you please open that little bag?"

  
  


Ron tugged the drawstrings and emptied the contents of the pouch into his hand. About half a dozen dry, withered leaves fell into his palm. Snape picked one up and sniffed it curiously. "What is this?"

  
  


"Dried athelas leaves." I summoned a ghost of my old grin. "A very good friend of mine taught me never to leave home without them. Steep them in hot water- they'll help to counteract the poison."

  
  


Snape was running a practised thumb along the leaf's brittle stem. "Fascinating." he murmured, half to himself. "Professor Sprout would love to have a look at these..." He swept off to another corner of the room, and began to busy himself with a pot of water.

  
  


Harry and Ron were turning to leave, but I managed to raise one hand slightly. "Wait." They stopped, and looked back at me expectantly. "I need you two to stay another few moments."

  
  


"Why?" asked Harry, brow furrowed in curiosity.

  
  


'Because," I answered, "When Professor Snape finishes steeping the athelas brew, I'm going to try to heal myself. But I'm going to need your help."

  
  


"Huh?" Now the two boys looked very confused. "Do you want us to help heal you?" asked Ron uncertainly. "We can't really do that kind of magic, you'd have to get Madam Pomfrey-"

  
  


"No, no." I cut him off. "I need an outside source to help anchor me. What I'm about to do is desperate, a last resort of my people to cure a poison in the blood. Normally, you'd have a group of family members or close friends to help you, but-" I snarled as another pain-flare tore through me, tightening my shoulders and arching my back, "I'm a long way from any of those right now. Will you help me?"

  
  


"What do you want us to do?" Harry asked warily, exchanging a glance with Ron.

  
  


"Nothing much. I need you to talk to me, keep me grounded. Or even to each other. I need an external stimulus to anchor myself."

  
  


"Okay." Still wary, the boys moved away as Snape swept over, carrying a steaming pewter goblet. He eyed me as I took a sip.

  
  


"Exactly what do you intend to do, Legolas?" I admired the man's discretion, calling me Legolas, rather than Master Elf as he had before; he didn't reveal me before the still-ignorant children, and I had made sure my hair stayed quite firmly in place over my ears.

  
  


"A battlefield healing technique I picked up a few years ago." Draining the goblet, I sighed as a fresh wave of strength coursed through me. Athelas is a marvellous treatment for many ills. It helped suppress my pain while forcing the poison towards the surface, exactly as I intended. I glanced at Harry and Ron, and nodded. "Start talking."

  
  


"About what?" Harry asked, uncertain.

  
  


"Anything. Anything at all. Just start talking, and for the love of the Valar, don't stop, no matter what." 

  
  


"Okay." Slightly unnerved, Harry turned to Ron. "So, have you heard the rumours about who's playing keeper for the Slytherins this year?"

  
  


"Yeah, I'd heard Millicent Bulstrode, but they haven't had a girl on their house team in years..."

  
  


I let the sounds of their voices wash over me, anchoring myself to the conscious world. Then, with a flash of athelas-fuelled strength, I shot forward, and grabbed one of my daggers from the belt Ron had left beside me. Then, before I could stop myself, I sliced a deep cut through my wrist. 

  
  


Harry and Ron gasped, and Snape swore, but fixed them all with a glare. "Keep talking." I grated through gritted teeth, blood flowing from in between my clenched fingers. Maybe it was the look on my face, or the blood coursing down my hand all over the table, but they obeyed. Focussing on the sound of their voices, I forced my consciousness inward.

  
  


My own heart roared in my ears as I dove deeper into myself. What I was doing was similar to an Elven sleeping trance, with one rather large exception. I concentrated all my will on my pounding heartbeat.

  
  


Then, I stopped it.

  
  


Stillness reigned inside as my blood stopped flowing and my lungs froze. The fingers that gripped my slashed wrist went limp and nerveless, almost upsetting the pewter goblet that I'd positioned under my arm. Knowing I had very little time before I caused permanent damage to my body, I cast my consciousness about, looking for the poison.

  
  


It was everywhere, a swarming black miasma in my veins. The athelas brew had helped isolate it from my now-motionless blood, as I had hoped. Then, I focussed all my will on *forcing* the vile poison out of my body.

  
  


Through the slash in my wrist, one oily black drop fell with a quick *plip* into the empty goblet that had held the athelas brew. Then another. Soon, a thin rivulet of the evil black poison was running down my wrist, dribbling into the cup.

  
  


Through it all, I clung to the sound of Harry and Ron's panicked voices. The words flowed through me, meaningless jabbering that was frequently joined by a high, unfamiliar sound. When I was certain my blood was purged of every last trace of the foul blackness, I latched my conscious mind to the thread of their voices, and let them draw me back to the physical world.

  
  


I was dizzily aware of my heart beating once more, of Snape wrapping my wrist tightly as the blood flowed anew. Harry and Ron were staring at me, still talking nervously, and I realized the room still echoed with the sound of screams. *My* screams.

  
  


Then I collapsed, eyes wide open, into an Elvish sleeping trance.

  
  


**********

  
  


It seemed an eternity later when I became aware of the outside world once more. I came awake sputtering as someone poured what felt like liquid fire into my mouth.

  
  


"There," Snape stepped back with a grim smile. "That should do you some good."

  
  


Swallowing, I felt my eyes widen as a rush of strength poured through my limbs and into my brain, banishing the last of the poison-related weakness. "Wow." I blinked, flexing stiff muscles, "What *was* that?"

  
  


"*That* was the last of your athelas leaves, brewed together with an extremely highly concentrated extract of cola nuts." He smiled thinly. "Pure caffeine." 

  
  


The two boys had moved off to one corner of the room. When he saw I was awake, however, Harry grinned and tossed me my shirt and tunic. "Thanks," I called as I caught them. I busied myself with pulling my shirt over my head. "How long was I out?"

  
  


"About ten minutes." replied Snape. "You were breathing, but you didn't respond to any stimuli..."

  
  


"And my eyes were wide open." I finished for him, and began to lace up the shirt. "Don't worry, that's just part of my normal sleep pattern." 

  
  


"You sleep with your eyes open?" Ron was eyeing me in confusion again.

  
  


I simply nodded, too tired to think of an explanation to satisfy the boy's curiosity. Doubtless he would come up with his own reason.

  
  


Done with the shirt, I hauled on my tunic, nearly upsetting the pewter goblet full of oily black venom that still rested on the table. I grabbed it, carefully handing it to Snape, who took it equally cautiously. "Be careful with it," I whispered, making sure Harry and Ron didn't hear. "That's enough poison to kill about ten humans."

  
  


Gently tugging at the improvised bandage on my wrist, I smiled when I saw the cut had healed, skin smooth as though it had never been slashed. I tossed the bloody cloth on the table behind me. 

  
  


I turned to the two boys then, who would have been well within their rights to be scared to death of me. "Thank you," I said sincerely, "You two helped more than you know."

  
  


"Don't worry about it..." Harry trailed off, and I saw his eyes flick upward, from my wrist to my face. "Hey, what's wrong with your ears?"

  
  


Oh crap.

  
  


Too late, I realized I'd unconsciously pushed my hair back behind my ears as I'd dressed. Now, they were there for Harry and Ron to see, in all their pointed glory. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Snape stiffen.

  
  


I wished for a distraction, anything; an earthquake, a hoard of orcs, a Balrog...well, I got my wish, because a distraction came walking right through the door.

  
  


"Harry Potter, sir?"

  
  


My head snapped towards the even, melodious voice. The speaker was trying to suppress a quaver, but he couldn't disguise the smooth modulation of his tone.

  
  


A figure stood framed in the doorway, a leanly muscled young man, naked but for a blanket wrapped over his shoulders and around his waist, and a pair of wildly mismatched socks.

  
  


Slowly, I drew my gaze over his body towards his face, trying to kill the hope that sprang to my heart. Slender build, long, chestnut-brown hair that hung in tangles over his shoulders, tucked haphazardly behind...pointed ears.

  
  


I locked my eyes with his, stormy blue with vivid green, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

  
  


Green eyes.

  
  


The elf from my dream.

  
  


He broke contact with me, gasping. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, as though to shut out the world, I heard him groan.

  
  


"Dobby's in a lot of trouble!"

  
  
  
  


To be continued...when Legolas' presence in this world is finally explained, can the elves save themselves from the humans who would subjugate them once again? And, exactly how drunk can Winky get? Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court! 

  
  
  
  



	14. Author's Note

Okay, all you wonderful reader-reviewer type people are well within your rights to complain. Personally, I can't stand authors like me, who stop updating and vanish without a trace...I'm totally buried in final exams and review thereof...ugh. They will all be over a week from Monday. If you can all hold out until next Monday, updates will start again. I'm really sorry about dropping this for so long, but I just haven't had time to write. Thanks for being so patient and refraining from hacking into my hard drive and blowing up my computer. I wuv you all. Cheers, Sun Queen :)


	15. The Fairy Queen

A Note From Sun Queen: Hey, long-suffering readers, I hope you're still there. This story has been wallowing on my hard drive because I am bogged down with the worst case of writer's block I've ever had. I've been trying to recharge some creativity, and I've been working on another Legolas project with another pair of authors, which is shaping up very nicely. I just can't force this story right now, because if I do, it inevitably comes out stale, and I'll hate it. Don't give up on me, though, I WILL finish this story!

  
  


I'm leaving on vacation next week (yay!), and I'll be back in a couple of weeks, inspired to finish this. So we hope. 

Chapter 12: The Fairy Queen

  
  


Hermione Granger's day had been confusing as hell.

  
  


She'd had an interrupted night's sleep; after Legolas' strange song had ended, she and her fellow Gryffindor fifth-years had fallen asleep on the floor, huddled together with tears drying in sticky tracks down their cheeks. They'd woken to find late morning sun streaming through their open window, their necks stiff and their backs sore. Hermione had been scrubbing her eyes furiously with a washcloth when Lavender and Parvarti had approached her. The three girls had held a hushed and hurried conference, before swearing, in the solemn manner of teenaged girls, on Elijah Wood's eyes and Orlando Bloom's cheekbones that they'd never reveal what they saw last night.

  
  


"Or how we cried like kids and I had to hold Lavender's hand until I fell asleep." Hermione thought sourly, one hand reaching under her bushy brown hair to massage her stiff neck. "Or how a song made me cry more than I did at Cedric's funeral..."

  
  


Enough. She'd missed breakfast, and her stomach was growling. Hermione turned and hurried down the stairs towards the kitchens. She'd been there several times before, and though the house-elves always watched her shiftily, (as though they were trying to guard even against the *thought* of freedom), she had no doubt they'd give her food if she asked nicely. A lovely bit of bacon on toast, a mug of pumpkin juice...

  
  


"Hell," she thought, "they'd give me food if I showed up wearing a bathrobe and a lampshade, barking orders!"

  
  


"Where *is* everyone this morning?" she finally wondered aloud. Even for Saturday, it was late for any student to be asleep, Quidditch games didn't begin for another few weeks, it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend, and it was too early to be in the Great Hall for lunch. She'd expected to find Harry and Ron about, but the common room had been empty. She turned a corner, and almost smacked into Neville Longbottom.

  
  


"Oh! Hello, Neville..." she greeted her fellow Gryffindor, taking in his mussed hair, and the yawn he vainly sought to cover behind his hand. "What in the world have you been up to?"

  
  


"I fell asleep in the Astronomy Tower last night. I was helping Professor Sinistra track a comet...it was really amazing, but I got so tired..." he yawned again. "You should have seen it, Hermione, it was so cool!" Neville's eyes took on the sparkling look that he got when a subject really grabbed him. Although, it was usually Herbology. Hermione had had no idea he was so interested in astronomy.

  
  


"A comet..." Hermione trailed off with a smile. "Once, the ancients thought that comets foretold the deaths of princes."

  
  


"You think?" Neville's round face looked thoughtful. "No...it was beautiful, like a streak of frozen fire. It was sort of red, and brighter than all the stars. It crept across the sky, then it disappeared over the western horizon, kind of like a sailing ship on the ocean."

  
  


Then Neville looked sheepish, as if he'd told too much. Blushing, he stammered, "I think I'll walk over to greenhouses now. Do you want to come?"

  
  


"No thanks," she grinned at him, making him blush brighter. "I'm going to get a bite to eat. Tell me more about your comet sometime, will you?"

  
  


Nodding hard, his cheeks a colour to make any beetroot proud, Neville took off down the hall. Hermione shook her head in amusement, and continued towards the kitchen, not knowing that she was about to have an encounter that would drive all thoughts of Neville and his comet straight out of her mind... 

  
  


************

  
  


Hermione had almost reached the kitchen's hidden entrance when she heard the singing.

  
  


Actually, to call it singing was a bit of a stretch. It sounded more like someone crying, hiccuping, and slurring all at once. Hermione tentatively poked her head around the corner and stopped, dead in her tracks.

  
  


There was a small knot of first-year Slytherin boys, whose normal macho scowls had been replaced by absolute confusion. They whispered among themselves helplessly, totally at loss in dealing with this present situation. 

  
  


By their feet, curled up against the wall, was a half-naked young woman. She was rocking back and forth, cradling a bottle in her lap. While humming and sobbing, her voice was occasionally interrupted by a loud hiccup. 

  
  


Hermione felt her jaw drop. The woman was nude, save for a white bed sheet that draped and clung, barely preserving her modesty. Long, glamourous legs poked out from under the makeshift toga, and wavy golden hair tumbled over her back and her curvaceous breasts. Her skin was luminous, her features flawless, but her dark eyes were lined crimson from crying. She grinned strangely at Hermione, took another swig out of the bottle in her lap, snarled at the ogling little Slytherins, and burst into fresh sobs.

  
  


Vaguely, the Gryffindor girl wondered if she was still asleep and dreaming. Even at Hogwarts, this was far outside the norm. Gorgeous women didn't just lie around in hallways, totally plastered, surrounded by gawking first-years. It just wasn't normal.

  
  


"Uh...hello. I'm Hermione...who are you?" The young Gryffindor scratched her neck helplessly. What on earth was she supposed to say? The strange woman ignored her completely, swatting instead at a little blond Slytherin boy who came too close. With a squeak, he leapt back, joining his nervous friends a few feet down the hall.

  
  


"Go get one of the Professors! Quickly!" Hermione barked, her best this-is-an-order voice. For once, the young Slytherins didn't even think to argue with a Gryffindor, and a Muggle-born, at that. They scurried off down the hall without being told twice.

  
  


Hermione bent and scooped up one of the three empty bottles that already lay scattered on the floor, then cautiously sniffed it. "Magyana's Vineyards, '32", the label proclaimed. She recognized this as a wizard wine, very strong and *very* expensive, part of the faculty's private stock. The woman met her shocked gaze and sniffled as Hermione voiced the first thought that came to mind. 

  
  


"You drank *three* of these?"

  
  


"Uh-huuuuhhh..." Though slurred, it was the woman's first recognizable word, and Hermione could hear the musical undertones of her voice, unsteady as it was. The stranger scrubbed pathetically at her damp cheeks with the edge of her sheet, looking lost and utterly forlorn.

  
  


She almost seemed fey, sitting there, a patch of sunlight making her blond hair glisten and setting her smooth skin aglow. Like the Queen of the Fairies, clad in the rags of a white ball gown, waiting for the moon to rise so she could dance again. Hermione's somewhat romantic illusion was shattered when the woman moaned, hiccuped again, and buried her face in her hands.

  
  


"Are you alright?" asked Hermione, mentally kicking herself for asking such a *stupid* question. Did the poor woman *look* alright? 

  
  


To her surprise, however, the woman met her gaze with teary brown eyes.

  
  


"You-" she stabbed a finger in Hermione's direction, "-are nosing, miss!" She yanked the bedsheet tighter around her breasts, then stared at her hands as though she'd never seen them before. "You are nosing..."

  
  


The accent was wrong, and the inflection was far sweeter, but suddenly everything clicked into place in Hermione's lightspeed brain. The drinking, the hastily wrapped toga. And 'nosing'? 

  
  


"Oh my god." whispered Hermione, her hand to her mouth. "Winky!"

  
  


**********

  
  


The world around me lost focus; all that mattered was the forlorn elf who stood before me, looking as though he wanted to flee. His green eyes darted from me, to Harry, and back the door.

  
  


From behind me, I vaguely heard Harry ask, "Dobby?", disbelief and shock warring in his voice. Keeping both palms open in a gesture of peace, I locked eyes with the stranger and let my voice slip into the familiar patterns of Elven speech.

  
  


*We are far from home, my friend.*

  
  


*Yes...* he answered, looking utterly perplexed. *I do not understand.*

  
  


*Nor do I.* I raised a hand and gently touched his cheek, a strand of chestnut hair, the curve and point of his ear. *Trust me.* I whispered.

  
  


A little bit of doubt faded from the strange elf's eyes, but fear and uncertainty still battled there. I smiled at him, and clasped his arm in a warrior's grip. Cautiously, he returned it.

  
  


Behind me, I heard Ron whispering to Professor Snape. "Sir..." he trailed off, "that's one of the house-elves, sir!"

  
  


I heard a thud, rather like a head dropping hard to a tabletop. "And Professor Trelawney said this was going to be a *good* week..." Snape said dryly.

  
  


The professor was interrupted by the breathless arrival of a young girl with curly brown hair. Relying on time-honed instinct, I darted to the side where I might pass unnoticed. The strange elf (a house-elf?), followed suit.

  
  


"Harry, Ron," gasped the girl, trying to catch her breath, "you won't believe what I found!"

  
  


"What is it, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, very smoothly drawing attention away from us to the centre of the room. Bless him.

  
  


"It's one of the house-elves, sir...Winky." The girl paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "I don't know...she's not human, but she's not a house-elf anymore!" 

  
  


Snape grimaced. "Not again." The girl started, but let the comment pass. "Where is she?"

  
  


The girl had begun to look rather upset. "I...lost her."

  
  


Snape nearly twitched. "You WHAT?"

  
  


"I lost Winky!" the girl snapped. "She had three bottles of wine in her, how was I supposed to know she'd be able to run that fast? She waited 'till my back was turned, then she took off!" The girl slumped. "I have no idea where she went."

  
  


I did.

  
  


This had not been a very good day for Professor Snape; he looked like he might throttle the next person who so much as approached him. With supreme effort, however, he reined his temper. "Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, Miss Granger. You will follow me, NOW!" With that, the Professor swept towards the door.

  
  


"Where are we going, sir?" asked Harry, nearly running to keep up, followed by the other two young humans. He threw a very confused glance in my direction, but I just bowed very slightly. Good luck, Harry Potter. I hope you can handle the truth.

  
  


"We are going to see the Headmaster in the Hospital Wing, Potter. Stop asking questions." As he turned to close the door, Snape turned to where we stood in the shadows. "Stay here." he ordered. The door clanged shut.

  
  


I heard the ringing footfalls disappear up the corridor. Then, there was silence.

  
  


The strange elf turned to me, an almost-smile tugging at his mouth. "Are we going to stay here?"

  
  


I smiled as I stood and stretched. "Of course not."

  
  
  
  


To be continued...one Elf alone is powerful. Two Elves can kick a Balrog's ass. Three Elves together are unstoppable...we hope... Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. Conversations in the Hospital Wing

A Note From Sun Queen: Hey everyone! Thanks for reviewing, and thanks for waiting. We're finally getting back to Dumbledore and Fudge, who I've left rotting in the hospital wing. Cornelius Fudge fanciers, now's your chance to bail out. Don't say I didn't warn you!

  
  


On a another note, one reason updates have been so slow is that I've been collaborating on another Legolas story with two other authors. Ivory Moon and Eruial, my sister and cousin, to be exact. It's called "Brothers in Arms" by the Nightrunners, a modern-day alternate universe fic. It's on the Lord of the Rings board, and I think anyone who likes "Mirkwood Elf" will reeeeeeeeeaaaallly enjoy this story. So I beg and entreat you, loyal readers, to go check it out. Thankees!

Chapter 14: 

  
  


Cornelius Fudge was in a foul mood.

  
  


Actually, foul was not the word. A short putt to a full rage was more accurate. To his credit, he was reigning his temper, if only barely. One did not rise to such an exalted position as Minister of Magic without *some* degree of self-control.

  
  


The pudgy minister was pacing the Hospital Wing like an addled cat, one innocent comment away from a full-blown temper tantrum. Various ministry wizards rolled about on the beds, many clutching limbs and moaning in theatrical agony.

  
  


Albus Dumbledore found the entire tableau absolutely hilarious.

  
  


Lounging on his hospital bed, the canny old Headmaster quickly buried his mirth. The situation had suddenly become serious. Fudge would inevitably start asking questions, (naturally, the man was not *that* great an idiot!), which could quite easily jeopardize the safety of their elven guest. After the loss of his precious Acromantula, Albus had little faith that Fudge would handle the situation with any sort of delicacy.

  
  


Legolas, the Elf prince, who had very likely saved his own life and the lives of a dozen ministry wizards. They had carried him inside, unconscious, bleeding from numerous wounds, and dripping grotesque black poison from a deep bite on his shoulder. Poppy, at her wits' end, had sent him down to the dungeons to Professor Snape. He had, after all, been studying the blood sample, which gave him some familiarity with the elf's body chemistry and a passing chance at saving his life. Hours later, there had still been no word.

  
  


Albus shook his head. A passing chance. The good Elf deserved better.

  
  


The old headmaster, during the course of his long life, had developed instincts that he had learned to trust. It usually ended up as the right course of action.

  
  


Although, there had been the case with Borilatta the Bizarre, the three-legged giraffe, and the Portugese dictionary...

  
  


...but, his instincts were *usually* correct.

  
  


Legolas was here for a reason, of that he was certain. Somehow, he'd broken through the barrier that separated their worlds. A destiny to fulfill, lives to change, an entire universe to reshape. So the Headmaster would protect him for as long as he could, out of affection to the Elf, and a somewhat perverse desire to thwart the wishes of Cornelius Fudge in any way possible.

  
  


Dumbledore smiled to himself. This was going to be fun.

  
  


Either he had reached some momentous decision, or he had simply tired of pacing, for Fudge came to an abrupt halt, facing the Headmaster, his fists planted on his hips. With his cheeks sucked in and his face flushed with anger, he looked uncommonly like an overcooked tuna. Dumbledore filed that mental note away for a good laugh later.

  
  


"Well, Albus, I think you have some explaining to do."

  
  


The old wizard decided to play innocent. "I'm not certain I understand, Minister."

  
  


Fudge waved his hands, his ire becoming more and more apparent. "I am referring, *Headmaster*, to the fact that a resident of your school killed the only live Acromantula specimen that we've ever managed to catch. And, after the havoc it caused this morning, the public will never accept the spiders as a tool in the war!"

  
  


Dumbledore decided to try reason. "Minister, after the display this morning, how can you still believe the Acromantula *could* have been harnessed as a weapon? Our most powerful spells barely slowed it!"

  
  


"Yes, but...but..." Fudge was beginning to splutter. "That's not the *point*, man! The *point* is that your little blond bloke destroyed what was technically Ministry property! Really, Albus, knives? What are you teaching your students?"

  
  


"Minister!" Dumbledore affected his best hurt tone. "I am shocked- no, *appalled* that you would believe one of the residents of this castle was responsible-" here he abruptly switched tacks, "For slaying a rampaging monster and saving over a dozen lives, including, quite possibly, your own."

  
  


Dumbledore nearly laughed aloud at the expression on Fudge's face. The Minister of Magic couldn't dispute his claims, not without admitting he and his entourage had run, leaving the group of Ministry wizards to be slaughtered.

  
  


"Fine," growled Fudge. "Bring this little hero out so we can properly *thank* him."

  
  


Opportunities to antagonize Fudge so completely didn't come along every day, so Dumbledore cherished them when they arose. He was quite certain that the Minister would rather kiss Snape than have to thank the rescuer.

  
  


"Unfortunately, that's a rather large problem." Dumbledore replied, not masking the real concern in his voice. "Your rescuer sustained some serious injuries, including an Acromantula bite. Madam Pomfrey was, as of several hours ago, uncertain if he'd survive." 

  
  


Legolas had claimed to be immortal, had even demonstrated how a wound on his arm quickly healed, but the Headmaster had no idea if that so-called 'immortality' would save him from the Acromantula venom, one of the deadliest poisons known to wizardkind.

  
  


Fudge was, in the meantime, scanning the room, looking more flustered by the second. "Well, where is your wounded hero? Why isn't your Matron tending him?"

  
  


"Madam Pomfrey was not equipped to deal with him at the time. So I sent him down to the dungeons with Professor Snape."

  
  


Fudge nearly lost it then. "You *what*?"

  
  


"As I said," Dumbledore repeated patiently, "Due to various medical complications-" non-human stature among them, he added silently, "Professor Snape was more suited to provide the necessary treatment."

  
  


"Listen here, Dumbledore-"

  
  


Fudge's comment, which would have undoubtably been very rude indeed, was abruptly cut off as the door to the Hospital Wing flew open to admit a harried-looking Snape. He was followed by three nervous students, who remained a step or two behind as though afraid to approach the irate Potions Master.

  
  


"Speak of the devil," said Dumbledore, turning to greet the new arrivals. "Why, Severus! What a pleasant surprise. And Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger too! To what do I owe this visit?"

  
  


Snape inclined his head to Dumbledore; then, almost as an afterthought, acknowledged Fudge. Turning back to the old wizard, he spoke. "Headmaster, I must speak with you about a very urgent matter."

  
  


Dumbledore nodded, taking it in stride. Turning to Fudge, he smiled. "Minister, would you excuse us for a moment?"

  
  


Fudge stared for a moment before realizing he was being asked to leave. Dumbledore rather expected him to make a fuss, but he merely hissed in exasperation before turning on his heel and stalking away. He began a low conversation with one of the Ministry wizards further down the room.

  
  


Snape drew the old wizard aside. Luckily, Dumbledore's bed was in a secluded corner of the room, granting them some measure of privacy. "Now, Professor, tell me what's wrong."

  
  


The Potions Master flicked a glance towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were standing by the end of the bed, whispering intensely amongst themselves. Turning back to Dumbledore, he began to speak in a low voice.

  
  


"Professor, something strange is happening to the house-elves, or rather, two of them. They appear to be...evolving."

  
  


Whatever Dumbledore had been expecting, this wasn't it. He blinked once, but merely said, "Continue."

  
  


"Legolas somehow removed the poison from his blood, using a herb he called 'athelas', and some sort of Elven battlefield healing technique." Snape winced, an extremely strong reaction from the normally dour teacher. "It appeared to require briefly stopping his own heart. It is not something I'd care to see repeated."

  
  


Dumbledore nodded, quite relieved that the Elf had recovered.

  
  


"Then, we were interrupted by an unfamiliar dark-haired man-" here Snape sighed, "-with pointed ears. He seemed most disoriented, but conversed with the Prince in what appeared to be the Elven tongue. Potter and Weasley then identified him as Dobby, one of the house-elves."

  
  


"While they were speaking, Miss Granger arrived, with the news that another of the house-elves, Winky, had apparently endured the same transformation." Snape sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. "It would appear that the two have evolved into beings similar to our Elven visitor. I can't explain it."

  
  


From the foot of the bed, Hermione's voice suddenly rung out, louder than she'd intended. "Of course! That's *it*! How could I have been so *stupid*?"

  
  


Dumbledore leaned forward, catching her attention. "Perhaps you'd like to share your theory with the rest of us, Miss Granger?"

  
  


Hermione, caught off guard, jumped a little. Recovering herself quickly, she said, "Of course, Professor." Lowering her voice so she wouldn't be overheard, she leaned towards the two teachers. Harry and Ron crowded next to her to listen.

  
  


"When I found Winky in the hall, it took a few minutes to realize who she was. Naturally, when I realized, I tried to bring her to one of the Professors. I was trying to bring her to Professor McGonagall's office when she ran away. I didn't know what to do then, but I passed Dean, and he said Harry and Ron had gone down to the dungeons. So I went to find them, but first, I stopped in the kitchens to check on the other house-elves. Do you know what I found?"

  
  


She paused, and the others leaned forward, anxious for her to finish.

  
  


"Nothing. Nothing was wrong." She shook her head. "They were scuttling around, wearing their togas, making lunch. Everything was normal. So, I thought it was just Winky, that maybe it was a spell or a charm. But when I got down to the dungeon, I realized the same thing had happened to Dobby, and that threw me for a bit. Then, just now, I realized exactly what Dobby and Winky have in common." She leaned forward, eyes bright. "They're both *free*."

  
  


Dumbledore inhaled sharply. An Elf appears from another world, and within two days of his arrival, two house-elves evolve into what seems to be the same race? A coincidence?

  
  


Doubtful.

  
  


Was this only the beginning? Was their mysterious elven visitor responsible for the change in Dobby and Winky? In time, would the other house-elves evolve into a tall, shining race of people? Most mind-boggling of all, was this enchantment limited to Hogwarts? England? Europe?

  
  


Too many questions, and few answers. Dumbledore stood up, straightening the front of his wrinkled robe. Poppy would raise holy hell with him later, but matters were urgent. The stakes had suddenly become much higher. Assuming his "commanding" mantle, the old wizard began to issue orders.

  
  


"Severus, please go placate the Minister and escort him to my office. I will join you there presently. Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, fetch some of the Professors and ask them to begin a search for our missing lady-elf . When she is found, see if she can be calmed and have her brought to my office. Miss Granger, run down to the dungeon and fetch our guest and his new friend."

  
  


As Hermione turned to go, Snape tossed her a silver key. He shrugged at Dumbledore, almost apologetically. "I locked them in."

  
  


"Cautious, if not overly polite, Severus." The Headmaster sighed, watching the three Gryffindors disappearing through the door. "I had hoped to keep the Ministry away from our elvish guest, at least for the time being, but I don't think we have a choice. If this situation is to be handled with *any* delicacy whatsoever, we shall have to placate Fudge while the matter is still in our hands. If the ministry takes Legolas Greenleaf away from Hogwarts, I greatly fear what they may do to him."

  
  


"As do I." agreed Snape, staring coldly across the room at Cornelius Fudge. "As do I."

  
  


**********

  
  


Hermione walked sedately away from any curious bystanders, turned the corner, and broke into a run. Her mind was whirling with possibilities and facts, finally settling into an acceptable conclusion. Legolas wasn't human, but rather something different, something terribly exotic.

  
  


An Elf.

  
  


Well, why not? If hippogriffs and unicorns were real, why not Elves? And not the kind that made shoes in the night, but a real, powerful, full-blooded race of people! And the house-elves! If they became like Legolas, no one would be able to hold them in slavery! They'd be free!

  
  


Taking the last flight of stairs two at a time, running down the hall, around the corner to the room where they usually had Potions class, where Snape had locked Legolas and Dobby inside...

  
  


What she saw made Hermione Granger, normally so unflappable, burst into tears. Leaning against the wall, she could already picture having to run all the way back upstairs to tell Dumbledore.

  
  


The door was ajar, and the elves were nowhere in sight.

  
  
  
  


To be continued...where are Legolas and Dobby? Where is Winky? Why is Fudge an idiot? What will our heroes *do*? *duh duh duh* It's a cliffhanger, folks! Tune in, in the not-so-distant, possibly foreseeable, less-than-two-months-future for the exciting adventures of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court!

  
  


PS. By the way, I was serious about "Brothers in Arms", by the Nightrunners. GO READ IT! Pleeeeaaase? 


End file.
